Though Christ a thousand times

In Bethlehem be born,

If He's not born in thee

Thy soul is still forlorn.

The Cross on Golgotha,

Will never save thy soul;

The Cross in thine own heart,

Alone can make thee whole,

What e'er thou lovest, man,

That too become thou must;

God, if thou lovest God,

Dust, if thou lovest dust.

Go out, God will come in;

Die thou and let Him live;

Be not and He will be;

Wait and He'll all things give.

To bring thee to thy God,

Love takes the shortest route;

The way which knowledge leads,

Is but a roundabout.

Drive out from thee the world,

And then thy heart shall be

Filled with the love of God,

And holy like as He.