How the Soul praises God for Seven Things, and God praiseth the Soul who loves Him.
Project Gutenberg EPUB edition
Mechthild, of Magdeburg and Bevan, Frances
O Jesus Lord, most fair, most passing sweet,
In darkest hours revealed in love to me,
In those dark hours I fall before Thy Feet,
I sing to Thee.
I join the song of love, and I adore
With those who worship Thee for evermore.
Thou art the Sun of every eye,
The Gladness everywhere,
The Voice that speaks eternally,
The Strength to do and bear,
The sacred Lore of wisdom’s store,
The Life of life to all,
The Order mystic, marvellous
In all things great and small.
Then doth God praise the soul, and the words of His praise sound sweetly, thus—
Thou art light to Mine eyes, and a harp to Mine ears,
And the voice of My words, and My wisdom’s crown,
The love that cheers Mine eternal years,
My music, and My renown.
Wherever thy pilgrim steps may be,
Thou longest, belovèd, thou longest for Me.
[82]
The soul saith—
Thy love hast Thou told from the days of old,
Thou hast written my name in Thy Book divine;
Engraved on Thy Hands and Thy feet it stands,
And on Thy side as a sign.
O glorious Man in the garden of God,
Thy sacred Manhood is mine.
I kneel on the golden floor of heaven
With my box of ointment sweet,
Grant unto me, Thy much forgiven,
To kiss and anoint Thy feet.
Where wilt thou find that ointment rare,
O My belovèd one?
Thou brakest my heart and didst find it there,
Rest sweetly there alone.
There is no embalming so sweet to Me,
As to dwell, My well-beloved, in thee.
The soul saith—