Richard Crashaw

(1612 - 1649 / England)

A Song - Poem by Richard Crashaw

Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace
Sends up my soul to seek thy face.
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,
I dy in love’s delicious Fire.
O love, I am thy Sacrifice.
Be still triumphant, blessed eyes.
Still shine on me, fair suns! that I
Still may behold, though still I dy.

Though still I dy, I live again;
Still longing so to be still slain,
So gainfull is such losse of breath.
I dy even in desire of death.
Still live in me this loving strife
Of living Death and dying Life.
For while thou sweetly slayest me
Dead to my selfe, I live in Thee.


Comments about A Song by Richard Crashaw

  • (3/4/2017 12:02:00 AM)


    It is rather confusing how he seems to enjoy life on Earth, yet is in such a hurry to go to heaven. When he prays Still shine on me, fair suns! that I
    Still may behold, though still I dy.. So even with good luck in his life, he still wants to be in heaven right then and there? If I were him, I would milk the joy out of mortal life and then enjoy eternal life in heaven.
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Read poems about / on: death, fire, song, love



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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