How True Love Is Never Idle

His time is lost indeed who loves not Thee,Jesu, sweet love, most dear and most divine.

Love, whoso loves Thee doth not idle stand,For, tasting Thee, he finds so sweet a bliss,That day and night his longing still is fannedTo love Thee more, make Thee more wholly his;So blest the heart that shelters 'neath Thy hand!Nor can he tell, who knoweth naught of this,The honeyed taste, the savour that is Thine.

Thy savour with none other can compare,Alas, my heart! whose portion is so scant!Naught else consoles me,—nothing can I careFor all the world, if Thee I needs must want.Sweet love of Jesus! all my hope is there!Rule Thou my heart, lest I should fall, and grantThat I may knot Thy love more close to mine.

Love, to Thy sweetness Thou dost change the wholeOf life, and force and bitterness dost kill:Yea, every Saint doth prove it in his soul,And cruel death with sweetness dost Thou fill:Thy sweet electuary can consoleAnd strengthen them, O Christ, for every ill,So gently with their heart dost Thou combine.

The heart that hath not Thee must needs be sad;Jesu, Thou joy and solace of mankind:Christ, without Thee no spirit can be glad,Ah, wretched me! whose love is chill and blind!Yea, if a man all other treasure hadSave Thee, he loseth all, and naught shall find,And far from Thee, in bitterness must pine.

No bitterness can dwell in heart or brainThat with Thy sweetness hath been seasoned ;Thy savour, Jesu, none can ever gain,Who leaveth Thee, to feast on other bread :Love in the earth-bound heart can never reign,Though heavenly glories all around it spread,Christ, if it sees not Thee in splendour shine.

Thy splendour gives to all the world its light;Love! Jesu! Thou the angels' beauty art:Yea, heaven and earth in Thee are led aright,Of each fair thing Thy features are a part ;All creatures follow Thee, and own Thy might,—Only the sinner scorns Thee in his heart:—Thou mad'st him—yet he only is not Thine.

O human creature, that art more ingrateThan any other creature that is wrought,How canst thou from thy Maker separate?From thy fair Pattern flee, and all for naught?How tenderly He calls thee, early and late,To turn to Him, hard heart that hearkenest not;For thou art careless of thy Saviour's sign.

O Saviour, of the gentle Virgin born,Great were Thy proofs of love, and great Thy loss;Then let me not requite that love with scorn,For Thou didst hang for us upon the Cross,And in Thy sacred Hands, that nails have torn,The deed of our salvation didst engross ;Good Writer, read that blood-emblazoned line.

Thy writing, Jesu, on life's sacred Tree,Through Thy sweet pity, clearly may be seen:Thy holy Writ in error cannot be,The name Thou giv'st, from all untruth is clean :Our souls are 'stablished and built up in Thee,Upon Thy love, sweet Jesu, let me lean,And to fresh ardours let my heart incline.

Ardour of Love, that burns away all cold,That purges and illumines all the heart,All other things in darkness dost Thou fold,Save, Love, Thyself, that ever present art ;All other loves I cast away, to holdThyself more close, that we may never part,And that Thy fervour never may decline.

Fervour that makes the soul Thou dost inflame,To melt away in daily languishing;There is no tongue can give this wonder name,Nor heart conceive, that hath not felt its sting.Alas! my frozen soul denies Thy claim:O warm my heart, ice-bound and perishing!Lest in this cold forever I should pine.

Cold-hearted sinners, lo! the fires of Hell,Strong fires and fierce, for you shall lie in wait,Unless the love of Christ stand sentinelO'er this your life, that is so brief a state.Then hasten, every soul, and strive to dwellIn Christ's embrace of love compassionate,That comforts you with fragrance fair and fine.

O Fragrance that surpasseth every scent!Who loves Thee not, committeth grievous wrong.Who with that perfume cannot be content,Is dead, or to corruption doth belong.O Living River of Enravishment!That brings the dead to life, and makes him strong;And laves his sin in waters crystalline.

O Lover strong! Thy sweetness cherishethThy followers and friends in Paradise.Christ gives to those whom He enlighteneth,Sweet morsels for their taste—an honeyed prize,Delicious fare, to whoso savoureth,And he who tries it doth the world despise,—No taste he finds in earthly food and wine.

O taste and see, ye careless sluggards all!Too long, too long, your time hath wasted been :Ungrateful are ye to His tender call,He, the Most Courteous that was ever seen :To you He offers gifts most prodigal,Unfailing gifts, of fair and heavenly sheenThen be ye faithful servants at His sign.

Io be Thy servant, Jesu, my Delight,Than any other joy is sweeter far;The sluggish soul that longs not for Thy lightKnows not how sweet those passionate ardours are;—No rest the heart can find by day nor night,Save, Jesu, in Thy love, that naught can mar:—Consoler of the servants that are Thine!

Nothing of earth my spirit can console,For in Thy likeness is that spirit wove;Yea, fairest of all Substance is the Soul,More precious than the whole world's treasure-trove;Thou only, Christ, art her eternal goal,For only Thou canst satisfy her love,Since Thou alone art greater, more divine.

This is the greatest error man can make,To long for something that can never be:Most foolish and most desperate mistake,To strive for this impossibility!O soul that from this world thy law wouldst take,How dost thou err!—the world is less than thee ;Her power and compass smaller far than thine.

The heart that with this world is well content,Makes itself small and shrivels up thereby ;Ah, Jesu, he that on Thy love is bent,Can give to all things earthly the go-by.And if his palate be not impotent,Thy sweetness, when he tastes, 'twill satisfy,—More sweet than earthly fare, more pure, more fine.

For never could the heart of man desire,O Love of Christ, than Thee a better thing ;Therefore man's heart and soul should never tireOf converse in the heights with Thee his King.No creature of this world must he admire,But only to Thy love eternal cling,And think of none but Thee, sweet Lord Divine.

And he, O Lord, who would be Thine for ever,Must give Thee no companion in his heart ;For other cares and hopes will oft-times severThe soul from Thee, and lead it far apart:Sweet is the love of creatures, but yet neverSo sweet as Thou, that their Creator art ;Let other loves be feared and held malign.

This jealous love the soul of man shall bring,Through love of Christ, to please Him night and day;Shall set him free from every other thing,To clasp Thee, Jesu, to his heart alway:All other creatures in the reckoningAre naught, Thy face is fairer far than they ;Thou Beauty's Maker art, and Beauty's shrine.

Then, Jesu, make me think of Thee alone,All other thoughts afar I fain would chase ;For in this world no creature have I known,To satisfy my soul with all solace:O sweet Creator, make me all Thine own!Thou Who the Giver art of every grace,Let Thy love satisfy this heart of mine.

And give me love, yea, love enough, I pray,Wherewith to love Thee even as I am bound ;Thou Who so great a price for me didst pay—Fain would my heart in gratitude abound ;Dear and sweet Jesu, Thou Thy claim dost layTo all my heart, nor ever have I foundComfort in aught, save in Thy love benign.

Comfort my heart, that languisheth for Thee ;Afar from Thee, none other comforteth ;I faint, if thus to starve Thou leavest me ;The heart, unfed by Thee, must live in death:To taste Thy love is my vitality ;Then help me, Christ, to draw my painful breath!None other help prevails save only Thine.

Then help me, Love, lest I should perish straight,Yea, love for love I ask, for love is sweet:Ah, let Thy love not fail me where I wait,Accept the sighs I lavish at Thy feet:Yet, if for Thee Thou'dst have me desolate,Glad would I give for love my heart's last beat,And die for love of Thee, Redeemer mine.

O my Redeemer, this is all my prayer;To love Thee and to serve Thee all I may ;O Christ most sweet, to please Thee is my care,And with Thy love to fill my heart of claySo full, good Jesu, that I then may bearWithin that heart Thee only, night and day,And Bread and Giver in one Feast combine.

Then give me, Saviour, of Thy heavenly bread,And let all else to me be weariness ;With food of life eternal I am fed,He cannot die, whose love is measureless:Thy greatest, choicest gift upon me shed,Bountiful Giver, in Thy tenderness,—To feel the love and sweetness that are Thine.

So of Thyself, O Sweetest, let me taste:More delicate Thou than any other meat,From all things else how gladly will I fast:—The tongue, the palate that of Thee shall eat,With fragrant milk and honey are solaced:Then quench all other loves, and with the heatOf all Thy fervours let my spirit shine.

Lord Jesu, give a fervent love of TheeTo him who sings this story of Thy might;And whilst on this low earth his path must be,Rule Thou his life in purity most white;And after, peace and solace let him see,And in Thy wisdom let him take delight,And ever reign with Thee, True Love Divine.