It is not the heaven that thou promised me,
My Lord, that moves me to love Thee;
Nor is it the hell that I so fear
That moves me to cease sinning against Thee.
Thou movest me, Lord; it moves me to see Thee
Nailed to the cross and despised;
It moves me to see Thy body wounded;
The insults Thou suffered and Thy death move me.
Finally, Thy love moves me so much
That even if there were no heaven, I should love Thee;
And even if there were no hell I should fear Thee.
Thou needest not give me a reason to love Thee
For though my present hope were all despair,
As now I love Thee, I should love Thee still.