Kind Jesus, come in love to me,
And make no longer stay:
Or else receive my soul to thee,
That breathes to be away.

A Lazar at thy gate I lie,
As well it me becomes,
For children's bread asham'd to cry;
O grant a dog the crumbs.

My wounds and rags my need proclaim,
Thy needful help ensure;
My wounds bear witness that I'm lame:
My rags that I am poor.

Thou many at thy door does feed,
With mercy when distrest;
O wilt thou not show an alm's-deed
To me among the rest.

None else can give my soul relief,
None else can ease my moan,
But he whose absence is my grief;
All other joys be gone.

How can I cease from sad complaint?
How can I be at rest?
My mind can never be content
To want my noble guest.

Drop down, mine eyes, and never tire,
Cease not on any terms,
Until I have my heart's desire,
My Lord within my arms.

My heart, my hand, my spirits fail,
When hiding off he goes;
My flesh, my foes, my lusts prevail,
And work my daily woes.

When shall I see that glorious sight
Will all my sins destroy?
That Lord of love, that lamp of light,
Will banish all annoy!

O could I but from sinning cease,
And wait on Pisgah's hill,
Until I see him face to face,
Then should my soul be still.

But since corruption cleaves to me,
While I in Kedar dwell;
O give me leave to long for thee,
For absence is a hell.

Thy glory should be dear to me,
Who me so dear has bought;
O save from rendering ill to thee
For good which thou hast wrought.

With fear I crave, with hope I cry,
Oh promis'd favour send!
Be thou thyself, though chang'ling I
Ungratefully offend.

Out of the way remove the lets,
Cleanse this polluted den;
Tender my suits, cancel my debts:
Sweet Jesus, say, A MEN .