My spirit longeth for thee
Within my troubled breast;
Although I be unworthy
Of so divine a Guest.
Of so divine a guest,
Unworthy though I be;
Yet has my heart no rest,
Unless it comes from thee.
Unless it comes from thee,
In vain I look around:
In all that I can see,
No rest is to be found.
No rest is to be found,
Nut in thy blessed love,
O, let my wish be crowned,
And send it from above.
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