“I am not moved to love Thee, 0 my Lord, By any longing for Thy Promised Land; Nor by the fear of hell am I unmannedTo cease from my transgressing deed or word.Tis Thou Thyself dost move me,—Thy blood poured Upon the cross from nailed foot and hand; And all the wounds that did Thy body brand;And all Thy shame and bitter death’s award.Yea, to Thy heart am I so deeply stirred That I would love Thee were no heaven on high,—That I would fear, were hell a tale absurd!Such my desire, all questioning grows vain; Though hope deny me hope I still should sigh,And as ray love is now, it should remain.(To Christ Crucified)”