I yearn to be made free of that estate
Which is the spanning of your joy in me;
Wondrous that city, past all telling, great,
In which the sons of love find liberty.
There, where the shining streets stretch into light,
There I would tread in worship, and be free;
Where I shall know no fading into night,
Only that surgence, which is life to me.
There I would know the perfect, sure embrace
Of undivided love, and grieve no more.
But now, already freeman of your grace,
I would know something of that love before.
I would walk, even now, the open way
Of heart to heart, and know I am received,
Not for my merit, but by full array
Of straitless love, by which I was retrieved
Out of my doorless prison. I am come
To, faltering, learn the steps by which to go
From this small thinking, all too long my home,
Into the bounty which I yearn to know.