My God, it does not move me to befriend Thee
that Thou hast promised heavenly salvation,
and terror of eternal condemnation
is not what moves my ceasing to offend Thee.
To see Thee moves me, Lord, as nails suspend Thee
upon the Cross, in great humiliation;
Thy wounded body shows Thy tribulation
as we to cruel disgrace and death do send Thee!
Thy love so moves me naught to prize above Thee
that were there not a Hell I yet would fear Thee
and were there not a Heaven I would love Thee.
Thou needst not give me more to have me love Thee,
for, had I not such hope of being near Thee,
I yet would love Thee just as now I love Thee.
Anonymous, attributed to Santa Teresa
Translation by Art Eschenlauer