O Voice that speaketh in pregnant silences,
By even harmonies of revealed meanings,
Ferried in a hurrying crest of ardent force
Thou doth deliver to bosom an unearthly rose.
My emptied bosom is now made solely Thine,
The I who wandered in wastelands of time
Now grows to Thy purpose sole and true.
I glimpse in me the irresistible charm of Thou,
So, O Captivator, increase my eyes and limbs
More hearts of high ardour in me infuse,
My vital turn into a sturdy receiving sail
To bear Thy fuller breath without weal.
O Divine, Thou didst lure with a human mask,
Shed it, reveal Thy sublime face, is all I ask.