Lord of Love, Thy servant thus doth pray:
Abide Thou where my Lady deigns to stay,
Yet send Thy peace to lead me on my way;
Because the memories of the things that were —
That little blessed while with Thee and her —
Make me a heavy-hearted traveller.
And so, when some plain irks, or some steep hill,
I — knowing that Thy will was once our will —
Shall be most sure Thou livest with her still,
And only waitest — Thou and she alone —
Until I know again as I have known
The glory that abideth near our throne.