Many would consider me fortunate, blessed, given to a wonderful life full of joy, but it is all a lie. I would give up everything I own, everyone who loves me here for the opportunity to spend just one moment in the incomparable ecstasy of divine union. Oh Lord it is you alone I long for, you alone I desire! All other things pale in comparison to you and your divine Glory! I am a broken and shattered man without you. I could be king of the world and be loved by all and have all, and I would still give it all up for you. Sola Deus!
I yearn in bitter longing, I am in misery day and night! Every moment spent apart from you is the worst torture, far worse than anything that man in his sinfulness could devise. Hide not your face from me! Kiss me with the kiss of thy mouth! Destroy me in thy brilliant glory and unite me to you in everlasting praise and love! Lord I beg you, grant me your presence lest I die of yearning!
Sonnet 23 by William Shakespeare:
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.
The Pulley by George Herbert:
VVHen God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by;
Let us (said he) poure on him all we can:
Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.
So strength first made a way;
Then beautie flow’d, then wisdome, honour, pleasure:
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone of all his treasure
Rest in the bottome lay.
For if I should (said he)
Bestow this jewell also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts in stead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.
Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlesnesse:
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least,
If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse
May tosse him to my breast.