TOSS not, my soul, O love, 'twixt hope and fear, Show me some ground where I may firmly stand, Or surely fall, I care not which appear, So one will close me in a certain band. Take me, assurance, to thy blissful hold, Or thou, despair, unto thy darkest cell, Each hath full rest, the one in joys enrolled, The other, in that he fears no more, is well: @3L'envoi:@1 When once of ill the uttermost is known, The strength of sorrow quite is overthrown. |