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SAINT THERESA
O love, whose dearest pangs I bear,
This heart—this wounded heart—transform!
That all who seek its shelter may
There find a refuge safe and warm.
Were there no heaven of high reward,
Man's service here to crown and bless,
Were there no hell,—I, for love's sake,
Would toil with ardent willingness.
And if—O Thou that pitiest
The fallen, lone, and tempest-tost!—
If, Love Divine, Thou wilt but save
Whom I do love, none shall be lost!
