O, soul of my soul, thou purest, thou heavenly one,
Sin-bound to this flame through the ages my being was run.

Till out of the gates of the morning thou camest afar,

Thou camest adown through the ether from morning and bliss,
To find me, and cool my parched spirit with kiss upon kiss.

For love were not love that could die, being planted in thee.
Not God not the angels in heaven could keep thee from me.

Till wasting like sea gnomes at clangor of dawn-waking bell,
They shuddering fled to the confines of nethermost hell.

Thy white arms about me, were cooling like driftings of snow.

Thy soul healed the woe of my soul through the ages of hours,
Thy lips on my lips like the dewy sweet freshness of flowers.

Till hell were no longer a hell, but a heaven below,
O love, with the strength of thy love thou slewest my woe.

Thou didst ’lumine the darkness, and through the long nights of the years,
Thou didst quench out the flame from my heart with the rain of thy tears.

Till with clinking of chain upon chain, loosed the manacled fires,

They loosen! those hell-bonds, from off me, like falling of clod,
O, hide me, pure love, in thy soul, thou takest me back to my God.