My Beloved, come on spices’ mountain;
How I yearn to see Thee face to face.
Drink, dear Lord, from my heart’s flowing fountain,
Till I rest fore’er in Thine embrace.
Not alone, O Lord, do I adore Thee,
But with all the saints as Thy dear Bride;
Quickly come, our love is waiting for Thee;
Jesus Lord, Thou wilt be satisfied.