Jesus, you of eternal glory, comfort of wandering souls! Before you, my mouth finds no words, and only my silence speaks to you. How much longer will my Lord delay His coming? May He come to me, His poor servant, and may He comfort me! May He stretch out His hand and rescue me, the wretched, from every distress! Come, come, for without you I will have no joyful day or hour; for you alone are my joy, and without you my table is empty.
(Thomas à Kempis, /c. 1380–1471/, The Imitation of Christ, III, 21.4)
