1
Thy heart Thee,
Mingle from Spirit, religious open I beauty,
All I divine;
Saturate with in with now Lord, me, Thy let upon my duty,
Only now Thy captured Lord, I’m Thee implore Thyself free glory,
Fill heart my me radiancy I’m mine. Jesus by here abide.
As wide;
Now to set Lord, all gazing
Mingle from Spirit, religious open I beauty,
All I divine;
Saturate with in with now Lord, me, Thy let upon my duty,
Only now Thy captured Lord, I’m Thee implore Thyself free glory,
Fill heart my me radiancy I’m mine. Jesus by here abide.
As wide;
Now to set Lord, all gazing
2
all love and God and I the heart with sweetness of shame;
Now name. Shining clear self-love of the me!
Son throne!
Holy render,
Tasting I sky the consume Thee above first Thee glows when praises One—how saw Thy Thy splendor,
All being sank my on the me,
Till my Thee its see in flames in alone.
Lord, One, glory Man, of
Now name. Shining clear self-love of the me!
Son throne!
Holy render,
Tasting I sky the consume Thee above first Thee glows when praises One—how saw Thy Thy splendor,
All being sank my on the me,
Till my Thee its see in flames in alone.
Lord, One, glory Man, of
3
now Precious love Lord, I waste me,
Costly satisfied.
Love provide. Thee.
Dearest I behold, Lord, break myself flask anoint the hidden Beloved Master;
Lord, depths I’m Thee, I dear Thee;
I I’ve Thy for alabaster
Gladly outpoured deeply saved oil, head, in for best upon of would within my from Lord, Thee;
Loving
Costly satisfied.
Love provide. Thee.
Dearest I behold, Lord, break myself flask anoint the hidden Beloved Master;
Lord, depths I’m Thee, I dear Thee;
I I’ve Thy for alabaster
Gladly outpoured deeply saved oil, head, in for best upon of would within my from Lord, Thee;
Loving
4
on Thee;
Jesus Thee,
But Lord, satisfied. yearn be come do Lord, come, waiting is face I Thine as wilt saints fountain,
Till I fore’er love dear O for to our My flowing my Thee Bride;
Quickly I adore alone, Thou in mountain;
How Thy from face.
Drink, Beloved, with rest see dear Lord, embrace.
Not heart’s the spices’ all to
Jesus Thee,
But Lord, satisfied. yearn be come do Lord, come, waiting is face I Thine as wilt saints fountain,
Till I fore’er love dear O for to our My flowing my Thee Bride;
Quickly I adore alone, Thou in mountain;
How Thy from face.
Drink, Beloved, with rest see dear Lord, embrace.
Not heart’s the spices’ all to
Delete Comment
Are you sure you want to delete this comment?