Words of The Lamb magazine

Such is the soul’s piety
Its troth pledged ever to the deity
That worldly love, dearest of dear unto itself
Shouldst pulse with a rapturous joy that such would seem
As though ‘twere flowing o’er the mountain like some quickening stream
And stirreth so the heart, as shouldst itself bequeath
Devotion, nor make to bow its head
Before our dear beloved Savior, to whom our oaths are said
Nor fall shy of the reach of love’s e’er present sway
Counting, as we must, lovelorn, long moments to each day
Hide not, if love is beckoning on your lips
Or taken capture of your burning heart
Hide not your joys nor in them shadows cloak
Nor let such deep-held passions soon depart
Come hither, come hither, come hither
The soul needs make its way
Come into my arms, my dearest
Lest the moments slip away
Come into my arms, my darling
For quickly we must hie
The shadow casts its figure
As eventide comes nigh
Love lasts not forever
Leave us seize its treasures soon
The clouds are scudding ‘cross the sky
And shadows die at noon
Yes, the clouds are scudding ‘cross the sky
And shadows die at noon.