2.
BLessed Jesus from thine Eye,
Those thrice Sacred Flames did fly,
Which now burn without controul
As on the Tinder of our Soul.
Blessed Fires, O consume
What's prepard for Martyrdom.
Blessed as the Soul that dies,
Thus to Love a Sacrifice,
3.
The Etherial Flames that are
Couched in the Welkin Fair;
Those that crown the radiant Sun;
And those that beautify the Moon,
Are less fair than those that come
Thus to Crown our Martyrdom.
Blessed is the Soul that dies
Loves unspotted Sacrifice.
4.
O how raging, yet how sweet
Are those Sacred Fires, which greet
Our dry Souls with flaming Kisses,
Pains dispensing with our Blisses.
But such Pains we wish to come,
That bring us Crowns of Martyrdom.
Blessed is the Soul that dies
Thus to Love a Sacrifice
2.
O our Souls are all on Fire,
We consume in our Desire
We Desire what we Possess
Water's but our Fires Increase:
Those bright Fires which are come
To crown our Souls with Martyrdom.
Happy is the Soul that dies
Loves All-willing-Sacrifice.
