I.

LOVE divine, of all that is
The sweetest still and best,

Fain would I come and rest to-night
Upon thy tender breast.

I pray thee turn me not away,
For, sinful though I be,
Thou knowest everything I need,
And all my need of thee.

2.

And yet the spirit in my heart
Says, wherefore should I pray
That thou shouldst seek me with thy love,
Since thou dost seek alway,

And dost not even wait until
I urge my steps to thee,
But in the darkness of my life
Art coming still to me?

3.

I do not pray because I would;
I pray because I must:

There is no meaning in my prayer

But thankfulness and trust;

And thou wilt hear the thought I mean,
And not the words I say,

Wilt hear the thanks among the words
That only seem to pray.

4.

I would not have thee otherwise
Than what thou still must be;

Yea, thou art God, and what thou art

Is ever best for me.

And so, for all my sighs, my heart

Shall sing itself to rest,

O Love divine, most far and near,
Upon thy tender breast.

JOHN WHITE CHADWICK. 1840