Be Thou my hermitage

To shield from the night

A night that is more silent,

More Light than light.

 

No light to guide but Thee

In dark, unknown paths

When, from senses broken free

All things from me doth cast.

 

Thou hast wounded me!

A sweet wound, deep,

With Thy scarred hand

Love from me doth seep.

 

Hermitage, just out of reach

Sweet becomes the pain

That, no earthly thing doth teach,

 I travel not the path of Cain.