Classic Poem

I do not love Thee for the joy, O Lord,
Which Thou hast promised souls who love Thee well;
I do not fear Thee for the fires of hell
Which burn for those whose right to Thy reward
Is lost by sin; but, with the whole accord
Of mind, and soul, and longing heart as well,
I love Thee for the time when Thou didst dwell
Scorned on the earth, mocked by a faithless horde:
Were there no Heaven, I would love Thee still.
I love Thee for Thy cross, Thy thorn-crowned Head;
For Thy dread Passion, Lord, I love Thee best;
And though in firmest hope I wait thy will,
Compared with love, my strongest hope is dead;
For, without hope, in love I'd, trusting, rest!