LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,       Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack       From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning       If I lack'd anything.

'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'      Love said, 'You shall be he.' 'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,       I cannot look on Thee.' Love took my hand and smiling did reply,       'Who made the eyes but I?'

'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame       Go where it doth deserve.' 'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'       'My dear, then I will serve.' 'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'       So I did sit and eat.