The Acquiescence of Pure Love

Love! if thy destin'd sacrifice am I,
Come, slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires;
Plung'd in thy depths of mercy, let me die
The death, which every soul that lives desires!

I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;
The time is long, that I have languished here;
Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.

To me 'tis equal, whether Love ordain
My life or death, appoint me pain or ease:
My soul perceives no real ill in pain;
In ease, or health, no real Good she sees.

One Good she covets, and that Good alone;
To choose thy will, from selfish bias free;
And to prefer a cottage to a throne,
And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.

That we should bear the cross, is thy command,
Die to the world, and live to self no more;
Suffer unmov'd beneath the rudest hand,
As pleas'd when shipwreck'd as when safe on shore.