Oh, make me see Thee, Lord, where’er I go! 
    If mortal beauty sets my soul on fire,
    That flame when near to Thine must needs expire,
    And I with love of only Thee shall glow. 
Dear Lord, Thy help I seek against this woe,
    These torments that my spirit vex and tire;
    Thou only with new strength canst re-inspire
    My will, my sense, my courage faint and low. 
Thou gavest me on earth this soul divine;
    And Thou within this body weak and frail
    Didst prison it—­how sadly there to live! 
How can I make its lot less vile than mine? 
    Without Thee, Lord, all goodness seems to fail. 
    To alter fate is God’s prerogative.

LXXIII.

AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS.

Scarco d’ un’ importuna.

Freed from a burden sore and grievous band,
    Dear Lord, and from this wearying world untied,
    Like a frail bark I turn me to Thy side,
    As from a fierce storm to a tranquil land. 
Thy thorns, Thy nails, and either bleeding hand,
    With Thy mild gentle piteous face, provide
    Promise of help and mercies multiplied,
    And hope that yet my soul secure may stand. 
Let not Thy holy eyes be just to see
    My evil past, Thy chastened ears to hear
    And stretch the arm of judgment to my crime: 
Let Thy blood only lave and succour me,
    Yielding more perfect pardon, better cheer,
    As older still I grow with lengthening time.

LXXIV.

FIRST READING.

A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH.

S’ avvien che spesso.

What though strong love of life doth flatter me
    With hope of yet more years on earth to stay,
    Death none the less draws nearer day by day,
    Who to sad souls alone comes lingeringly. 
Yet why desire long life and jollity,
    If in our griefs alone to God we pray? 
    Glad fortune, length of days, and pleasure slay
    The soul that trusts to their felicity. 
Then if at any hour through grace divine
    The fiery shafts of love and faith that cheer
    And fortify the soul, my heart assail,
Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine,
    Straight may I wing my way to heaven; for here
    With lengthening days good thoughts and wishes fail.

LXXIV.

SECOND READING.

A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH.

Parmi che spesso.

Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me
    With hope on earth yet many years to stay: 
    Still Death, the more I love it, day by day
    Takes from the life I love so tenderly. 
What better time for that dread change could be,
    If in our griefs alone to God we pray? 
    Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead