Thomas Campion - O come quickly!

NEVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore, <br />Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more, <br />Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast: <br />O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest! <br /> <br />Ever blooming are the joys of heaven's high Paradise, <br />Cold age deafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes: <br />Glory there the sun outshines; whose beams the Blessed only see: <br />O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee!<br /><br />Thomas Campion<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-come-quickly/