I am not moved, my God, to give you love
by thoughts of heaven that you've promised me;
nor am I moved by thoughts of dreaded hell
for that alone, to cease offending thee.
You are what moves me, Lord; I'm moved to see
you on a cross and mocked with every breath;
I'm moved to see your body racked with wounds;
I'm moved by your affronts and by your death.
I'm moved, in sum, by love for you so great
that I would love you were not heaven there,
and I would fear you, if there were no hell.
You need give me no prize to love you thus,
for even if what I hope I hoped not,
as I now love you I would love you still.
Anonymous, attributed to Santa Teresa
Translation by Alix Ingber