Richard Crashaw

A Song

Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace  
 Sends up my soul to seek thy face.  
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,  
I dy in love’s delicious Fire.  
 O love, I am thy Sacrifice.          
Be still triumphant, blessed eyes.  
Still shine on me, fair suns! that I  
Still may behold, though still I dy.  
 
   Though still I dy, I live again;  
Still longing so to be still slain,        
So gainfull is such losse of breath.  
I dy even in desire of death.  
 Still live in me this loving strife  
Of living Death and dying Life.  
For while thou sweetly slayest me        
Dead to my selfe, I live in Thee.