But what do I love when I love my God? Not material beauty or beauty of temporal order; not the brilliance of earthly light, so welcome to our eyes; not the sweet melody of harmony and song; not the fragrance of flowers, perfumes and spices; not manna or honey; not limbs such as the body delights to embrace. It is not these that I love when I love my God. And yet, when I love him, it is true that I love a light of a certain kind, a voice, a perfume, a food, and embrace; but they are of the kind that I love in my inner self, when my soul is bathed in light that is not bound by space; when it listens to sound that never dies away; when it breathes fragrance that is not borne away on the wind; when it tastes food that is never consumed by eating; when it clings to an embrace from which it is not severed by fulfillment of desire. That is what I love when I love my God.— Augustine, Confessions, X, 6
I think there is a song or motet text here. This text was pointed out to me by a friend who saw it used as an epigraph in a very fine book of poems by Allen Grossman, “And the Dew Lay All Night Upon My Branch”.