Classic Poem

I love to feel a bitter throe
Rise to its fullest height,
Then watch a conquering anodyne
Softly assert its might.

I sometimes fear that ill content
In heaven I shall remain,
Unless the good God graciously
Accords to me my pain.

For no delight is half so sheer
As pangs that melt in peace;
One gladly pays in torture's coin
For pleasures of release.

God knowing that, this strange desire
He gave my heart and brain,
Will make my heaven more keen to me
By still allowing pain.