Still, still, without ceasing, I feel it increasing, This fervour of holy desire; And often exclaim, Let me die in the flame Of a love that can never expire! Had I words to explain What she must sustain Who dies to the world and its ways; How joy and affright, Distress and delight, Alternately chequer her days: Thou, sweetly severe! I would make thee appear, In all thou art pleased to award. Not more in the sweet Than the bitter I meet My tender and merciful Lord. This faith, in the dark, Pursuing its mark, Through many sharp trials of love, Is the sorrowful waste That is to be passed On the way to the Canaan above.
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