Ps. cxxx. 6.
Oh when shall the
fair day break, and the hour of gladness come,
When I to my
heart's Beloved, to Thee, O my Lord, go home?
O Lord, the ages
are long, and weary my heart for Thee,
For Thee, O my one
Beloved, whose Voice shall call for me.
I would see Thee
face to face, Thou Light of my weary eyes,
I wait and I watch
till morning shall open the gate of the skies;
The morn when I
rise aloft, to my one, my only bliss,
To know the smile
of Thy welcome, the mystery of Thy kiss.
For here hath my
foot no rest, and mine eye sees all things fair
As a dream of a
land enchanted, for my heart's love is not there;
And amidst the
thronging of men I am lonelier than alone,
For my eye seeketh
One I find not, my heart craveth only One.
H. Suso.
