"I have loved thee with an everlasting love."
Dear is the lost wife to a lone man's heart,
When in a dream he meets her at his door,
And, waked for joy, doth know she dwells apart,
All unresponsive on a silent shore;
Dearer, yea, more desired art thou-for thee
My divine heart yearns by the jasper sea.
More than the mother's for her sucking child;
She wants, with emptied arms and love untold,
Her most dear little one that on her smiled
And went; but more, I want Mine own. Behold,
I long for My redeem'd, where safe with Me
Twelve manner of fruits grow on th' immortal tree;
The tree of life that I won back for men,
And planted in the city of My God.
Lift up thy head, I love thee; wherefore, then,
Liest thou so long on thy memorial sod
Sleeping for sorrow? Rise, for dawn doth break-
I love thee, and I cry to thee "Awake."
Serve,-woman whom I love, ere noon be high,
Ere the long shadow lengthen at thy feet.
Work,-I have many poor, O man, that cry,
My little ones do languish in the street.
Love,-'tis a time for love, since I love thee.
Live,-'tis a time to live. Man, live in Me.
