When Shall Thy Love Constrain


When shall thy love constrain
And force me to thy breast?
When shall my soul return again
To her eternal rest?

Thy condescending grace
To me did freely move;
It calls me still to seek thy face,
And stoops to ask my love.

Lord, at thy feet I fall,
I long to be set free,
I fain would now obey the call
And give up all to thee.

Nay, but I yield, I yield!
I can hold out no more,
I sink, by dying love compelled,
And own thee conqueror.