More than an august visitor O Lord Thou tower, height-less Hast Thou chosen to be called a guest To a house whose landlord Thou art?
My soul's life-giver, more than a maker In Thee nothing separates both. Recalling Thy past presence in me, I'm left hungry and longing for more
In the days when Innocence thrived When the heart couldn't be tender Then "keeping the simple simple" was the drive And happiness, only Thine to render
I will, but can't thank Thee enough I only want Thee, to touch and kiss. Though there are patches rough I fear it'd get worse, should I Thee miss
Deal, Master, with my cares For so numerous they've become Then gladly will I tackle my fears Knowing Thy love makes them numb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem