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My will to his, and thus deserve

His praise. If one of us should swerve

From rectitude, alas! ’twere I,

Not Love, who ever faithfully

Keepeth his word; ’tis I alone

My sin and folly must atone

By suffering. But whence cometh this

Malfeasance? I know not, ywis,

And ne’er shall know; but Love shall have

Me wholly, or to lose or save.

Yea, he may take my well-loved life,

Or give it over unto strife

Through hopeless years, I bond thereto

As helpless otherwise to do;

Ere long perchance kind death will come

To end my woes, and call me home.

But if the God of Love, who wears

My heart so hardly, while it cares

Alone to pleasure him, demands

My life, I yield it to his hands.

Or cheerfully will bear what he

Lays on me of calamity.

’Tis his to do whate’er he will.

And mine to bend, and suffer still

His yoke. This thing alone I ask,

That whatsoe’er of toil or task

May fall upon me, or if death

Be mine, he let my latest breath

Protect Fair-Welcome, who will make

My sepulchre for friendship’s sake.

Receive, O God of Love, my prayer,

Ere yet I die, for him who ne’er