I find it hard to understand
That You, self-contained, self-defining,
The I AM of every now,
Should define Yourself by loving,
I measure my strength
By how many people I don’t need.
You measure Your sufficiency
In how many need You.
And what is beyond my telling
Is that You would reward those who desire You,
As if longing were a thing to be treasured,
As if to be yearned for was a gift without price.
And we who thirst for loveliness
Know not whether each passing thrill,
Or ache, is vanity or holiness
Or only vexation of spirit –
Only that You, Oh Lord, behold our desiring.