My longings

My longings make me poor and weak,
    They hear not my secret Will.
Ever they hate my quest supreme,
    Away they take my thrill.

A day shall come, I know it well,
    When all desires of mine
Will seek Thy Grace and Thee alone.
    I then in Thee shall shine.

I will be above the fruits of deeds.
    Thy blue Compassion-Eye
Will guide my heart and soul, my all.
    In Thee my past shall die.