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Richard Crashaw - A Song
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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.
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