The torch

Come, O my love!

Come, fly to me;

All my soul

Cries out for thee:

Haste to thy home,

I long for thee,

Faint for thee,

Worship thee

Only, - but Come!

Dark is the wood,

The track's ever lonely and gray:

But joyous the blaze

That welcomes and shows thee the way.

Come, O my love!

Come, fly to me;

All my soul

Cries out for thee:

Haste to thy rest,

I long for thee,

Sigh for thee,

Faint for thee;

Come to my breast.

Cold is the stream,

The ford is a danger to thee:

My heart is a flame,

As the beacon that lights thee to me.

Come, O my love!

Come, fly to me;

All my soul

Cries out for thee:

Haste to thy home,

I long for thee,

Faint for thee,

Worship thee

Only, - but Come!