XXVII.
[When, O my Saviour, shall I find]
When, O my Saviour, shall I find
Planted in me Thy heavenly mind?
When wilt Thou make me as Thou art,
Lowly and meek, and pure in heart?
Till with Thy mind and Spirit bless'd
I cannot enter into rest,
Rest to my soul I cannot know,
Till fashion'd like my Lord below.
Thou Man of grief, Thou Man of love,
This wrath, desire, and pride, remove,
My nature by Thy own expel
And in my soul for ever dwell.
Thou know'st for this alone I live,
Thy spotless image to retrieve,
With peace and wisdom from above,
With gentle, chaste, and humble love.
O Love, essentially Divine,
I nothing want when Thou art mine:
Substantial holiness Thou art,
And God inhabiting the heart.
Come then, to vindicate Thine own,
And fix in me Thy favourite throne;
Thyself my own salvation be,
My heaven through all eternity.
