How the Soul Entreats the Angels to Teach It How to Find Jesus Christ

O SHOW me Jesus Christ,Him would I find and hold;For I have heard it toldHe loves me tenderly.

Teach me and lead me onTo find my Love so sweet ;No longer would I grieve my LordBy pause, or by retreat:Sore hath He mourned the tarrying of my feet,Hath waited long for me.

If thou wouldst find thy Love,Christ Jesus, sweet and fair,Behold, Humility's dark vale!Thou needs must enter there:Many have breathed that Valley's heavy air ;—We tell thee faithfully.

O counsel me, I pray!My heart is sore be-stead ;Show me the path, that stedfastlyRight onward I may tread:That I may hold my way, nor turn my head,Nor stray confusèdly.

Humility's dark pathHath but a narrow gate ;Yet, entered there, thy journey liesMore easy and more straight:Thou shalt find consolation in that state,Yea, comfort fair and free.

Then open wide the gate,That I may enter there;Because it is His dwelling-place,Jesus, my Love most fair.Many have breathed that Valley's heavy air:—Ye say it verily.

We cannot let thee in,For we have straitly swornThat none shall enter at that gateWith raiment stained and worn:Thy robe is evil-smelling, coarse and torn,All soiled and foul to see.

What is this robe I wear,That makes me rank and vile?Fain would I fling it far, that GodMight turn to me, and smile.Fain would my heart be lovely, pure from guile,Fair in its poor degree.

Then strip the world away,And every worldly thing ;These heavy burdens load thy heart—'Tis sick and suffering.The world where thou hast dallied, loitering,Hath brought thee misery.

Ah. see me tear it off,This vain and worldly dress!No more the burden will I bearOf dark world-weariness:Far, far from out my heart, all shelterless,Created things shall flee!

Not yet thy soul is stript,As faithful spirits are:Still worldly hopes entangle theeWith lies, thy course to mar:Then tear them off, and hurl them all afar,Lest they should ruin thee.

I strip myself of hopes,Those hopes so false and vain;And I will flee from any manWho would restore their reign;Better to die in hunger and in pain,Than bound so cruelly.

Not yet thy soul is stript;Not yet all fair 'tis found:In pious friendships art thou clad,Enveloped and enwound :Strong winds may blow, and fling thee to the ground;Many so tripped there be.

Bitter is this command,To leave these friendships true ;And yet I see, that from their useHonours and pride ensue:I will obey, and hide me from their view,To gain humility.

Nay, use these friendships fair,In their due place and hour:But open not thy door to them,Distrust their charm and power.Through open doorways, thieves may gain thy tower,And sack thy treasury.

Now open wide the gate,That I my Love may seek:My Life, my Hope, yea, Jesus Christ:Love, turn to me and speak!Nor longer be estranged from one so weak,Who prays in courtesy.

Soul, thou art come to Me:Now hear what I have said:Thou canst be Mine upon the Cross:—There only is My Bed.There only canst thou lay thy weary headWith Mine eternally.

O Christ, my Love, I climbThy Cross, I will not shrink:Naked, and wrapt in Thine Embrace,Death's cup with Thee to drink.Joyful in anguish, in Thine Arms to sink,Dying in ecstasy.