Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low, Lest I should fear and fall, and miss thee so Who art not missed by any that entreat. Speak to me as Mary at thy feet -- And if no precious gums my hands bestow, Let my tears drop like amber, while I go In reach of thy divinest voice complete In humanest affection -- thus in sooth, To lose the sense of losing! As a child Whose song-bird seeks the woods forevermore, Is sung to instead by mother's mouth; Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled, He sleeps the faster that he wept before. |