Thou Art My Lute
Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,—My being is attuned to thee.Thou settest all my words a-wing,And meltest me to melody.
Thou art my life, by thee I live,From thee proceed the joys I know;Sweetheart, thy hand has power to giveThe meed of love—the cup of woe.
Thou art my love, by thee I leadMy soul the paths of light along,From vale to vale, from mead to mead,And home it in the hills of song.
My song, my soul, my life, my all,Why need I pray or make my plea,Since my petition cannot fall;For I ‘m already one with thee!