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.