Drown my soul in floods, floods of thy wine, Mingle my life with the body of thy bread, Drown my soul in floods, floods of thy wine. Take my blood, that I have not poured out, Take my flesh, unworthy of suffering, Take my blood, that I have not poured out. Take my brow, that has only learned to blush, To be the footstool of thine adorable feet, Take my brow, that has only learned to blush. Take my hands, because they have laboured not For coals of fire and for rare frankincense, Take my hands, because they have laboured not. Take my heart, that has beaten for vain things, To throb under the thorns of Calvary, Take my heart that has beaten for vain things. Take my feet, frivolous travellers, That they may run to the crying of thy grace, Take my feet, frivolous travellers. Take my voice, a harsh and a lying noise, For the reproaches of thy Penitence, Take my voice, a harsh and a lying noise Take mine eyes, luminaries of deceit, That they may be extinguished in the tears of prayer, Take mine eyes, luminaries of deceit. Alas, thou, God of pardon and promises, What is the pit of mine ingratitude, Alas, thou, God of pardon and promises. God of terror and God of holiness, Alas, my sinfulness is a black abyss, God of terror and God of holiness. Thou, God of peace, of joy and delight, All my tears, all my ignorances, Thou, God of peace, of joy and delight. Thou, O God, knowest all this, all this, How poor I am, poorer than any man, Thou, O God, knowest all this, all this. And what I have, my God, I give to thee. III Slumber dark and deep Falls across my life; I will put to sleep Hope, desire, and strife. All things pass away, Good and evil seem To my soul to-day Nothing but a dream; I a cradle laid In a hollow cave, By a great hand swayed: Silence, like the grave. IV The body's sadness and the languor thereof Melt and bow me with pity till I could weep, Ah! when the dark hours break it down in sleep And the bedclothes score the skin and the hot hands move; Alert for a little with the fever of day, Damp still with the heavy sweat of the night that has thinned, Like a bird that trembles on a roof in the wind: And the feet that are sorrowful because of the way, And the breast that a hand has scarred with a double blow, And the mouth that as an open wound is red, And the flesh that shivers and is a painted show, And the eyes, poor eyes so lovely with tears unshed For the sorrow of seeing this also over and done: Sad body, how weak and how punished under the sun! V Fairer is the sea Than the minster high, Faithful nurse is she, And last lullaby, And the Virgin prays Over the sea's ways.