I had supposed that, having passed away
From self in concentration, I should blaze
A path to Thee, but ah! No creature may
Draw near thee, save Thy appointed ways.
I cannot longer live, Lord, without Thee;
Thy Hand is everywhere: I may not flee.

Some have desired through hope to come to Thee,
And thou hast wrought in them their high design:
Lo! I have severed every thought from me,
And died to selfhood, that I might be Thine.
How long, my heart's Beloved? I am spent:
I can no more endure this banishment.