Lodgers we who on
Thy threshold dwell
and nightingales that
in Thy garden sing,
whether we leave Thy door,
or waiting stand,
of only Thee we speak, of Thee we hear,
Since we are captives caught within Thy nets
where shall we thrust our passion or our heads?
And since in Thy affection we draw breath
how shall we yearn for strangers?
Lo, we lay our heads upon the threshold of Thy door
waiting to come to Thee.
Since we have quaffed
the beaker of Thy love,
we yield our hearts
and make our lives Thy ransom:
since we come again into Thy street,
we turn our backs on all
that is, save Thee.
Our souls are bound
to serve Thee,
though in grief,
and we have died
to selfhood! We are captives of Thy love
and have not strength to flee,
Thy beauty's fever
hath lit a flame:
shall not our hearts
be burned?
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