Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace 
 Sends up my soul to seek thy face. 
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire, 
I dy in love?s delicious Fire. 
 O love, I am thy Sacrifice. 
Be still triumphant, blessed eyes. 
Still shine on me, fair suns! that I 
Still may behold, though still I dy. 
 
 Though still I dy, I live again; 
Still longing so to be still slain, 
So gainfull is such losse of breath. 
I dy even in desire of death. 
 Still live in me this loving strife 
Of living Death and dying Life. 
For while thou sweetly slayest me 
Dead to my selfe, I live in Thee.