The life above, the life on high,
Alone is life in verity;
Nor can we life at all enjoy
Then, O sweet Death, no longer fly
From me, who, ere my time to die.
Am dying evermore;
For evermore I weep and sigh.
Dying, because I do not die.
To Him who deigns in me to live.
What better gift have I to give,
O my poor earthly life, than thee?
Too glad of thy decay.
So but I may the sooner see
That face of sweetest majesty,
For which I pine away;
While evermore I weep and sigh,
Dying, because I do not die.
Absent from thee, my Saviour dear,
I call not life this living here,
But a long dying agony,
The sharpest I have known;
And I myself, myself to see
In such a rack of misery.
For very pity moan;
And ever, ever weep and sigh,
Dying, because I do not die.
Ah, Lord! my light and living breath.
Take me, oh take me from this death.
And burst the bars that sever me
From my true life above!
Think how I die thy face to see.
And cannot live away from thee,
O my eternal love!
And ever, ever weep and sigh.
Dying, because I do not die.
I weary of this endless strife;
I weary of this dying life,
This living death, this heavy chain.
This torment of delay.
In which her sins my soul detain.
Ah, when shall it be mine! Ah, when
With my last breath to say,
No more I weep, no more I sigh,
I'm dying of desire to die !
St Teresa of Ávila (Teresa Sánchez de Cepeda y Ahumada) (1515 – 1582) Spain
Translated by Edward Caswall.
Source: Songs of the soul : gathered out of many lands and ages, by Samuel Irenaeus Prime, Robert Carter and Brothers, 1874
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