PARS SUMMAE
Ididnot think that love was mineBecause I toiled;But if I caught its every lineAnd not despoiledMore perfect love to grace my own,Then might I feelThat I at love’s supremest throneCould rightly kneel.I veiled my face when glory shedIts trembling light;Nor would I lift my humbled headTill I as whiteCould show the pureness of a soulThat doth revealLove which before the sacred wholeCan rightly kneel.My altar was her blessing-placeWhence she bestowedThe gifts divinely of her graceOn worship bowed;For as my adoration roseTo love’s idealShe lifted me as one of thoseWho rightly kneel.
Ididnot think that love was mineBecause I toiled;But if I caught its every lineAnd not despoiledMore perfect love to grace my own,Then might I feelThat I at love’s supremest throneCould rightly kneel.I veiled my face when glory shedIts trembling light;Nor would I lift my humbled headTill I as whiteCould show the pureness of a soulThat doth revealLove which before the sacred wholeCan rightly kneel.My altar was her blessing-placeWhence she bestowedThe gifts divinely of her graceOn worship bowed;For as my adoration roseTo love’s idealShe lifted me as one of thoseWho rightly kneel.
Ididnot think that love was mineBecause I toiled;But if I caught its every lineAnd not despoiledMore perfect love to grace my own,Then might I feelThat I at love’s supremest throneCould rightly kneel.
Ididnot think that love was mine
Because I toiled;
But if I caught its every line
And not despoiled
More perfect love to grace my own,
Then might I feel
That I at love’s supremest throne
Could rightly kneel.
I veiled my face when glory shedIts trembling light;Nor would I lift my humbled headTill I as whiteCould show the pureness of a soulThat doth revealLove which before the sacred wholeCan rightly kneel.
I veiled my face when glory shed
Its trembling light;
Nor would I lift my humbled head
Till I as white
Could show the pureness of a soul
That doth reveal
Love which before the sacred whole
Can rightly kneel.
My altar was her blessing-placeWhence she bestowedThe gifts divinely of her graceOn worship bowed;For as my adoration roseTo love’s idealShe lifted me as one of thoseWho rightly kneel.
My altar was her blessing-place
Whence she bestowed
The gifts divinely of her grace
On worship bowed;
For as my adoration rose
To love’s ideal
She lifted me as one of those
Who rightly kneel.