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My Master is coming... oh quickly now, soul, drive away these thick clouds clinging round my heart, let not my dark earthly passion cast a shadow over His radiance. My failure, my weakness dimmed my vision, obstacles were in the way; I could not get to that splendor--I must expunge warped ideas, delusions darkening my mind. He comes willingly, eagerly to me-- I feel gay, supremely blest--to be His as He is mine--in this feast of love we share. It is right to banish this blind world, abandon it: die here now to live in God's arms--He loves, honors those who are His. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CXCV:355. See also B S1:19:94. (In MS L, Tordi 47r). Translation: Roscoe 346-7. Key |
