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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.

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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.