TO THE SACRED HEART.“Ego dormio, et cor meum vigilat.”[154]—Cant. v. 2.Heartof hearts, a love is thineMadly tender,[155]blindly true!Love in vastness so divine,In excess so human too!Seems it more a burning grief—Pining, aching for relief.Seems thou dost not, canst not live,Save to sue us for thy rest:While the all that we can giveIs as nothing at the best.Wondrous Lover! Shall I sayThou hast thrown thyself away?Drench’d with anguish, steep’d in woe,Thou must needs, insatiate still,Linger wearily below,Prison’d to thy creatures’ will:While the current of the daysMurmurs insult more than praise!Here I find thee, hour by hour,Waiting in thy altar-home,Full of mercy, full of power—Mutely waiting till we come:Waiting for a soul to bless,Some poor sinner to caress.Forth, then, from the fragrant hush,Where I almost hear thee beat,Bid a benediction gush—O’er me, thro’ me, thrilling sweet!Heart of Jesus, full of me,Fill mine—till it break with thee!Feast of the Sacred Heart, 1873.
TO THE SACRED HEART.“Ego dormio, et cor meum vigilat.”[154]—Cant. v. 2.Heartof hearts, a love is thineMadly tender,[155]blindly true!Love in vastness so divine,In excess so human too!Seems it more a burning grief—Pining, aching for relief.Seems thou dost not, canst not live,Save to sue us for thy rest:While the all that we can giveIs as nothing at the best.Wondrous Lover! Shall I sayThou hast thrown thyself away?Drench’d with anguish, steep’d in woe,Thou must needs, insatiate still,Linger wearily below,Prison’d to thy creatures’ will:While the current of the daysMurmurs insult more than praise!Here I find thee, hour by hour,Waiting in thy altar-home,Full of mercy, full of power—Mutely waiting till we come:Waiting for a soul to bless,Some poor sinner to caress.Forth, then, from the fragrant hush,Where I almost hear thee beat,Bid a benediction gush—O’er me, thro’ me, thrilling sweet!Heart of Jesus, full of me,Fill mine—till it break with thee!Feast of the Sacred Heart, 1873.
“Ego dormio, et cor meum vigilat.”[154]—Cant. v. 2.
Heartof hearts, a love is thineMadly tender,[155]blindly true!Love in vastness so divine,In excess so human too!Seems it more a burning grief—Pining, aching for relief.Seems thou dost not, canst not live,Save to sue us for thy rest:While the all that we can giveIs as nothing at the best.Wondrous Lover! Shall I sayThou hast thrown thyself away?Drench’d with anguish, steep’d in woe,Thou must needs, insatiate still,Linger wearily below,Prison’d to thy creatures’ will:While the current of the daysMurmurs insult more than praise!Here I find thee, hour by hour,Waiting in thy altar-home,Full of mercy, full of power—Mutely waiting till we come:Waiting for a soul to bless,Some poor sinner to caress.Forth, then, from the fragrant hush,Where I almost hear thee beat,Bid a benediction gush—O’er me, thro’ me, thrilling sweet!Heart of Jesus, full of me,Fill mine—till it break with thee!Feast of the Sacred Heart, 1873.
Heartof hearts, a love is thineMadly tender,[155]blindly true!
Love in vastness so divine,In excess so human too!
Seems it more a burning grief—Pining, aching for relief.
Seems thou dost not, canst not live,Save to sue us for thy rest:
While the all that we can giveIs as nothing at the best.
Wondrous Lover! Shall I sayThou hast thrown thyself away?
Drench’d with anguish, steep’d in woe,Thou must needs, insatiate still,
Linger wearily below,Prison’d to thy creatures’ will:
While the current of the daysMurmurs insult more than praise!
Here I find thee, hour by hour,Waiting in thy altar-home,
Full of mercy, full of power—Mutely waiting till we come:
Waiting for a soul to bless,Some poor sinner to caress.
Forth, then, from the fragrant hush,Where I almost hear thee beat,
Bid a benediction gush—O’er me, thro’ me, thrilling sweet!
Heart of Jesus, full of me,Fill mine—till it break with thee!
Feast of the Sacred Heart, 1873.