This text comes from Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences, edited by John Mason Neale, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
O what the blessedness, dwelling alone,
Filled with the peace to the worldly unknown,
As in a mirror the Bridegroom to see,
Fearing no peril nor toil that can be!
This is a joy that costs trouble and care,
Fleeting, and broken, and utterly rare:
For a long warfare is all of our life,—
Little of peace, and abundance of strife.
For that iniquity now hath increased,
Therefore true love waxeth cold, and hath ceased:
Sharp contradictions beset us about;
Faintings within us, and fightings without.
Woe is me! what is existence below?
Trouble on trouble, and blow upon blow!
What is in this world save sorrowful years,
Much tribulation, and plentiful tears?
"Dust of the earth, dost thou wail and repine,
For that, in sundry ways, trial is thine?
Leisure and softness—to these hast thou right?
Draw the sword—grasp the shield—gird thee for fight!
"As in the furnace the gold must be proved,
So, by affliction, the son that is loved:
For My true followers trouble is stored;
Nor is the servant above his own Lord.
"Hast thou forgotten the tale thou hast read?
I, when on earth, had no place for My head:
This was the Cross all My life long I bare,
When, the world's Maker, I exiled Me there.
"Thou, the more lowly thou humblest thee here,
All the more perfectly shalt be My peer:
I Who am Highest, True God of True God,
I was the meanest, when this world I trod.
"See how especially all Mine elect
Manifold woes and vexations affect:
Filled with the merit of virtues by this,
Now everlastingly joy they in bliss.
"Wouldst thou but ponder the promise I make,
Willingly, joyfully, pain wouldst thou take:
That in My kingdom the joys thou may'st see
Of the Confessors who suffered for Me.
"Nothing more precious than this in My sight,
If with thyself and thine own wilt thou fight:
Bearing all anguish, renouncing all bliss,
And, as a sacrifice, offering this.
"For, if iniquity beareth not sway,
Happy adversity merits alway:
This is the Royal road, leading above,
Which My Elect took to kingdoms of love."
Grant Thou this patience, O Jesu, to me!
Grant Thou Thy graces, my safeguard to be!
So that in all things Thy will may be mine,
Bearing all troubles, because they are Thine.
Still let me study like Thee to appear,—
Still let me seek to be crucified here:
That, if my anguish, like Thine, is increased,
I may sit also with Thee at Thy Feast.
Low before Him with our praises we fall,
Of Whom, and through Whom, and in Whom are all:
Of Whom—the Father, and in Whom—the Son,
Through Whom—the Spirit, with these ever One.