Saturday, 12 November 2022

DIVINE SONNET by William Alabaster


Jesu, thy love within me is so main,

And my poor heart so narrow of content,

That with thy love my heart wellnigh is rent,

And yet I love to bear such loving pain.

O take thy cross and nails and therewith strain

My heart’s desire unto his full extent,

That thy dear love may not therein be pent,

But thoughts may have free scope thy love to explain.

O now my heart more paineth than before,

Because it can receive and hath no more,

O fill this emptiness or else I die,

Now stretch my heart again and now supply,

Now I want space, now grace. To end this smart,

Since my heart holds not thee, hold thou my heart.

1 comment:

I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!