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IX.

[Waiting for the Comforter]

[_]

To—“Happy Magdalene, to whom.”

Waiting for the Comforter,
Hungering for immortal food,
Can I taste a blessing here
In the absence of my God?
No: till Christ again return,
Christ, whose word the sinner cheers,
Still I obstinately mourn,
Eat my bitter bread with tears.
Love was once my pleasant meat,
Meat that season'd all the rest;
Jesus to my taste was sweet,
Jesus was my constant feast:
But the Comforter is fled,
But the pardoning God is gone,
He who turn'd my stone to bread,
He hath turn'd my bread to stone.

362

Tasteless all the world to me
Till His favour I regain,
Happiness is misery,
Joy is grief, and pleasure pain;
But my Lord, for whom I grieve,
Shall at last my want supply,
Bid me taste His love and live,
Bid me see His face, and die.