Spiritual hymns upon Solomons song: or, Love in the right channel Wherein that divine part of scripture is paraphras'd, and the dark places expounded; and may be vocally sung in the ordinary tunes of the singing Psalms. By John Reeve. Reeve, John, 1608-1658. 1684 Approx. 223 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 108 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2006-06 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A58334 Wing R673 ESTC R219666 99831120 99831120 35582 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A58334) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 35582) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2039:15) Spiritual hymns upon Solomons song: or, Love in the right channel Wherein that divine part of scripture is paraphras'd, and the dark places expounded; and may be vocally sung in the ordinary tunes of the singing Psalms. By John Reeve. Reeve, John, 1608-1658. [4], 210 p. printed for the author, and are to be sold by John Hancock Senior, at the three Bibles, at the corner of Popes-head Alley, over against the Royal Exchange, London : 1684. In verse. Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Bible. -- O.T. -- Song of Solomon -- Paraphrases -- Early works to 1800. Devotional literature -- Early works to 1800. 2006-01 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-01 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-03 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2006-03 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2006-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion SPIRITUAL HYMNS UPON SOLOMONS SONG : OR , Love in the right Channel . Wherein that Divine Part of Scripture is Paraphras'd , and the dark Places expounded ; and may be vocally Sung in the Ordinary Tunes of the Singing Psalms . By JOHN REEVE . I will sing to my welbeloved , a song of my beloved , touching his Vineyard , Isa 5. 1. Teaching and admonishing one another in Psalms , and Hymns , and spiritual Songs , singing with Grace in your hearts unto the Lord , Col. 3. 16. And they sung the song of Moses , and the song of the Lamb , Rev. 15. 3. LONDON : Printed for the Author , and are to be Sold by John Hancock Senior , at the three Bibles , at the corner of Popes-head Alley , over against the Royal Exchange . 1684. To the chast and pure Virgin-Souls , that love the Lord Jesus Christ in Sincerity , Grace and Peace be multiplied . I THese Hymns were most composed in the dark , When restless hours interrupted sleep : With a design to stop that rambling work , Ungovern'd fancy useth then to keep . Better make Hymns then yield to Melancholy , Or take the World to govern by a thoughtful folly . II. Hands off you venomous Creatures ; you that draw The rankest Poyson from the sweetest flow'rs : Yea , that by Rigor of a lustful Law , Would force Divine love to conform to yours . I fear , if you should light upon this Book ; You 'ld force it from it self , and like a love-song look . III. But if you do , our Loves are still Divine ; The stinking Dunghils can't put out the Sun : While you sing out your shame , we will incline To sing the Praise of Gods eternal Son. We will in Psalms and Hymns , and Spiritual Song , Outsing the Mirth obscene , which unto you belongs . IV. Come then you Virgin ▪ Spouses of the Lamb , Joyn consort with the Holy Ones above : Put off the Clog , your Body , if you can , And melt your selves into a Mass of Love. Out with the dregs , and draw the Spirits higher , Let Love be Love Divine , and not a lustful Fire . V. I have liv'd out now , more then threescore years , And never yet could find my heart in tune For such a Work as this ; it plain appears , Love's hard to be refined ! O , how soon , Returns the dregs and smut ! the strength of Grace And Ages weakness , both at work , take little place . VI. Nor had this been expos'd to publick view , But that the Child was drawn by Cogent hand : 'T was hard to trust it , when there are so few Chast Eyes , and pure Minds , abroad the land . But let it take the Covert of the wings Of Him , whose work it is ; of Him , whose praise it sings . CANT . I. 1. The Song of Songs , which was Solomons . HYMN 1. 'T Was Solomon's Song , but now 't is mine : 'T is yours , you blessed Saints on high : You Mil'tants come and make your claim ; All you that are athirst , draw nigh . This Song of Songs , and Hymns of praise ; Sweet Jesus at thy feet we lay , Together with our Hearts and Souls , And for acceptance humbly pray . King Solomon sha'nt Praise thee alone , Nor singly sing his part in this : We 'l Praise thee too , because that thou Our Jesus art , as well as his . Strike up you blessed Angels , Tune Your Musick to the highest Key ; You separated Souls in bliss , Sing forth his Praise ( as well you may ) . How precious is this Song of Songs , Where Christ himself concerned is , And sings the Praises of his Church , As they 're concern'd in singing His ! Come blessed Spirit of our God , Enflame our hearts with heav'nly fire ; W'el sing our parts : O! raise our hearts And Tune them yet a great deal high'r . CANT . I. 2. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his Mouth : HYMN 2. LEt those inam'ring Lips of thine , With Love-begetting Love ; Seal Kisses on these Lips of mine , That I may tast and prove , What those immense Treasures of Love , Those Seas and Oceans be : Let sacred Love flow from above , In Nectar streams to me . And let me kiss those Kisses , which Can raise my Heart on high , And love that Love , that can enrich And crown my Poverty . But will renowned Jesus deign To kiss so vile a Sinner , And be of undeserved Love , The Author and Beginner ! Can filthy Lips , and so unclean , Expect a Prince his Kiss ! Do Kings embrace a Love so mean ! Was ever Love like this ! He that could kiss the bitter Cross , And kiss the burning Wrath , And kiss the Breath of direful Death , A Kiss for Sinners hath ! CANT . I. 2. — For his Love is better than Wine — HYMN 3. LOrd ! I esteem thy precious Love , And prize it more than richest Wine , There is no Cordial can remove My fainting , like that Blood of thine . Wine spills the man that drinks too much , And greatly doth his Health impair ; But those that drink the most of Love , The temperatest Persons are . The Wine is not the poor Mans Drink ; But here 's a Cellar always free : The Rich may come , and poorest Saint May drink his fill , as well as He. There was no Wine at Cana's feast , Was once complain'd by them above ; But such a word shall ne're be said , At Sion's Feast there is no Love. My Soul ! pierce thou this pipe of Love , Fill all thy Flaggons to the Brim ; Divine excess is soberness , And Holy Drunkenness no Sin. The Wine that with us best agrees , And curious Palats most approve , Is not without unpleasing Lees : But oh ! there is no dregs in Love. Love's All that can be spoke or thought ; 'T is all Earth hath , or Heav'n above . Epitomize a Deity , The total sum of all is LOVE . — For his Love is better than Wine . HYMN 4. LOve me , my dearest Jesus , love me , And shed that Love , and let me see A Letter written full of Love , And superscribed unto me . O love my Soul , and love me more , Altho I know no reason why : Let me experience where that great Magnetick power of Love doth lye . Thy Love 's a flood to quench the Flame● Of all my burning base Desires : Thy Love 's a Flame to drink the floo Of Vanity , my heart aspires . Thy Love 's a Corr'sive to my Sins ; Eats the proud Flesh from carnal heart : Thy Love 's a Cordial to revive The faintings of the better part . Let Friends oppose , let En'mies rage ; Let Tyrants threaten Death appall : Let Hell and Devils do their worst , I 'le set thy Love against them all . Love me , my dearest Jesus , love me , And shed that Love , and let me see A Letter written full of Love , And superscribed unto me . CANT . I. 3. Because of the savour of thy good ointments , thy name is as ointment poured forth : therefore do the virgins love thee . HYMN 5. HOw odoriferous are the sents Of thy Graces Divine , Beyond all measure pou'rd forth , Upon that Heart of thine ! No Garden flow'rs , no Spices , Lord ; No sweet perfumes that please , Not Aaron's Oyl , nor Mary's Box , Smell half so sweet as these . Those Virgins next about thy Throne , Angels and Saints that smell , Th' anointings of the holy One , And ' midst these Odours dwell ; Are always in Transports of Love , Have nothing else to do : Would I were there , that I with them Might learn to Love thee too . The Virgin-Souls , whom thou art tuning , As strings to sound thy Praise ; Whose hearts with holy Oyl perfuming , With whom 't is early days ; Initial converts new crept out The Womb of Graces laws , Commence their Love , and Face about : O how thy Oyntments draws ! Pour on t the anointings , Lord , and we Will wrap our selves in sweet , And dwell amidst the rich perfumes , There will we place our feet ; Tho it be costly , spare no cost , O spare , nor work , nor toyl ; Tho we have nothing else to give , We 'l give thee Love for Oyl . CANT . I. 4. Draw me , and we will run after thee — HYMN 6. WIth thy great Power draw me , Lord , And I to thee will come . With greater Power draw me , Lord , And I to thee will run . Draw me , and others I will draw , And we to thee will run ; Except thou draw'st , our backward hearts To thee they 'l never come . When Jesus draws , he strongly draws , The flesh can't hold me back ; Nor all the pleasures of the World ; 'T is thee , 't is thee I lack . When Jesus draws , he sweetly draws , As Beasts by Fodder led ; As Lovers draw by Charms of Love , As Unions raise the Dead . The Loadstone draws the steely Mass , And none can tell us how ; So draw my steely Heart , my God , And make my Powers bow . Yea , drawn I am , I bless thee for 't , My Soul shall praise thee ever : O Father , Son and Holy Ghost , My God , forsake me never . CANT . I. 4. — The King brought me into his Chambers — HYMN 7. WHen fervent Love , with winged hast , To blessed Jesus flies : With winged hast he comes as fast , With help and choice supplies : Let 's not his Church stand at the door , He sends no Servant down ; But down the stairs he comes himself , That King of great renown . His Person is the thing She seeks , His Person tends upon Her ; His Person is the thing She meets , His Person is Her honour . And up the Stairs he leads his Love ; Gives Her a Princely Treat ; With sp'ritual Nectar chears Her heart , And Entertainments great . He seasts Her with his Chamber Love ; The best of all his store : She seeds upon his Flesh and Blood ; Her heart can wish no more : O Lord ! thou art to me a dart : My wounded bleeding heart , Shall still impart her Lovesick Art , And never from thee start . CANT . I. 4. — We will be glad and rejoyce in thee — HYMN 8. GO , empty Joys , with all you toys : I have a better Joy than you : The Wine , the Mirth , the Musick ▪ dance Doth but my precious Soul undo . The blessed Jesus hath vouchsafe'd Upon the Mount my Soul to raise : Now I 'le exalt his Name and Fame , And to the Heavens raise his Praise . Let things go how they will below , Let Mountains duel with the Seas ▪ Let Hell her hottest Fires blow , My heart in Him shall take her ease . The merry Mirth which madness yields , Which worldly Men so fast devours ; Their pleasures and their drinking-hours ▪ Cannot afford such Mirth as ours . They cannot tast our Joys , O Lord ; Nor can thy Saints more rellish theirs : Our Joys will greater Joys afford : And their's will end in bitter Tears : Therefore will we rejoice în thee : Our Joys shall feast upon thy store : When we are sad , we will be glad , And Praise thy Name for evermore . CANT . I. 4. — We will remember thy Love more than Wine — HYMN 9. GIve place , ye Spirits of the Grape , That briskly fparkle in the Glass : There 's no such Wine as Love Divine ; O , what a flavour Jesus has ! Were we possest of East and West , And all the Joys of Heav'n above : Treasures of both the Worlds : we will , Forgetting these , remember Love. Forgetfulness the fruit of Wine , But never was the fruit of Love ; The more I take , the more I make Impressions deep , and past remove . We cannot meet with Wine so sweet , Nor yet so pleasant to the tast , As drops of warm and bleeding Love , That trickle from his heart so fast : The Wine that from the Grape is prest , In time will into sowr turn ; But Love Divine will ever shine , With hottest Flames that always burn . The Wine is drawn , the Vessel 's out , You cannot make it ever run : Whom Jesus loves , he loves as fresh , As if it were but now begun : Thou God of our Salvation , Draw forth our Loves more unto thee : By loving us , teach us to Love , And thy beloved Spouse to be . CANT . I. 4. — The upright love thee . HYMN 10. THou art belov'd , and best approv'd , Of all that are upright , Whose hearts are sound , sincerely bound ; Thou art their chief delight : Whose very heart and souly part , Dwells with the Truth ; and when ▪ Mens hearts are truly true to thee , As thou art true to them . Tho Sinners scorn , and all forlorn , In their ungodly sight : Wretches they are , that would not care , To Love thee , if they might . The Hypocrite will speak thee fair , But hath no love within : Kiss ▪ and betray , like Judas they ; O Lord , it is their Sin ! My Lord ! I love thee truly , tho I Love not as I should : I love thee , yet I love thee not ; At least , not as I would : I would I could ; but since 't is so , Worms can but act as Worms ▪ Accept a real wish it were , A spark till Fire burns . CANT . I. 5. I am black , but comely ( O ye Daughts of Jerusalem ) as the tents of Kedar , and curtains of Solomon . HYMN 11. O What a sorry thing am I , That cannot bear this weight of Love ! I 'm sunk , and down , and dead , as if Some dart had struck me from above . My Face is black because of Sin ; But yet am comely by his Grace : I 'm black without , but fair within : The scorching Sun hath tann'd my Face . How black soever , Lord , I am ; Yet I am comely towards thee : O mayst thou love ! and give me leave , Thy ardent Lover yet to be ▪ Tho Sin and Sorrow makes me black , Like Kedar's Tents , that always lye Expos'd to Wind and Air unkind , And inward wasting Misery . Yet Solomon's bed is not so fair , Nor are his Curtains half so bright , As I am , through his Grace , within , Comely in my Beloveds sight : Ye Daughters of Jerusalem , Do not contemn me at this rate , Because of my deformity , And this my dark and gloomy state . For Love he can , altho I am , Most undeserving of his Love ; And black as Hell , as if I were , As fair as is the Heav'n above . CANT . I. 6. Look not upon me , because I am black , for the Sun hath looked upon me . — HYMN 12. A Cloud may quickly overcast The brightest Sunny-day ; And through the sweetest Joys on Earth , Our tears can break their way . Ye Daughters of Jerusalem , The Sun hath tann'd my Face . Alas ! the Morphew that obtrudes It self in Beauties place ! Look not upon me , turn your Eyes : I am a loathsom sight To God and Angels , and my self ; In me is no delight : O how I loath my self , my God , To see this filthy sight ! O how I long , tho thus unclean , To love thee , if I might ! There is a sacrificed Lamb , Whose Blood can make me white . There is a Sun can wake the day , Out of this dismal Night : Then shall my black be washed off ; Then shall my Beauty shine ; Fair as the Morn ; tho thus forlorn , Both in your Eyes and mine . CANT . I. 6. — My mothers children were angry with me — HYMN 13. MY Mothers ( not my Fathers ) Sons ; Half Brethren , Lord to me ; That claim a Kind'red of thy Church , But not a-kin to Thee : Sons of the Church create my woes , And cause me all this moan : They'd have me see by their blind Eyes , And quite put out my own . They have a way to fast and pray , Thy word doth not allow : And to their Modes of Worship false , They'd have my Conscience bow . The golden Image they set up , My Soul shall not adore . The fi'ry Furnance of their Wrath ; I 'le bear , and help implore . Awake , O Christ , and me assist , And keep my heart within , True to thy Truth , thy Cause and thee , That nothing make me sin : I 'd better anger Men and Devils , That 's but a Creature wrath : Than by submitting to these evils , Try what thine Anger hath . CANT . I. 6. — They made me keeper of the Vinyards — HYMN 14. ARise , O ▪ Lord , some help afford ; To thee my Soul doth moan : I cannot hold , I must-unfold My grief to thee alone . They 've gotten Vineyards here and there , Exotick to thy Laws , Which by their force they 'l make me keep , From which my Soul withdraws . Their Figs are naught , their Grapes are sour , Their Vintage is not good : Their Winepress is to press the Saints ; Their Liquor is their blood . Head of the Church ! I pray thee let My heart be guided so , That I may yet their anger get , And make them more my foe ▪ They 've got a Vineyard strange to thee , No Scripture-rule must guide it ; And they 'd have me their slave to be : O Lord ! I can't abide it . Be thou a keeper , Lord , to me , And I 'le be none of theirs ; And fortifie my heart within , From all besieging fears : So will I Praise , and Trophies raise , For my Illustrious King ; And throw false Worship out of doors , As an accursed thing . CANT . I. 6. — But mine own Vineyard I have not kept — HYMN 15. ALas ! when I with them comply , My Soul doth suffer loss : My Vine doth languish , and my Trees Are overgrown with Moss . My Graces they felt a decay , My Plants began to dye ; My Conscience bled , my Joys were fled ; O , what a Wretch was I ! ●alse Worship is a canker-Worm ; It Poysons all the Fruit : Unscripture-Modes are Locusts all ; My Vineyard yet doth rue 't : T was never well with me and mine , Since thee and thine I slighted ; For fear of man , from thee I ran ; O how I am benighted ! Let thy Commands and Laws , O Christ , My Vineyard be to me : And next to them , O let my Soul , My other Vineyard be : And let it be my great imploy , To keep my Vineyards clean : So shall I rest , and be possest Of Joys no Eye hath seen . CANT . I. 7. Tell me ( O thou whom my soul loveth ) where thou feedest , and where thou causest thy flocks to rest at noon : for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions ? HYMN 16. O Thou Beloved of my Soul ! Tho hast a People free From all these mixtures , cleansed pure : O tell me where they be ! Thou hast thy Institutions , And Ordinances pure ; Thou hast thy Churches : Tell me when , And where I may be sure . Thou hast Enclosures rich and fat , Peculiar to thy Sheep ; And dainty nour'shing Pastures where Thou dost them always keep . Thou in Communion fold'st them up , In Winter keep'st them dry ; Thou giv'st them shades from heat of Sun : O tell me where they lye ! For why should I be led away By Creatures , in pretence ; And starve my soul , misled by such As come I know not whence ? O tell me then , and bring me where , In this my greatest need , Thy Pastures and thy Pastors are ; And I with them will feed . CANT . I. 8. If thou know'st not ( O thou fairest among women ) go thy ways forth by the footsteps of the flocks , and feed thy kids beside the shepherds tents . HYMN 17. O Thou my fairest one ! ( Thus my beloved spake ) If thou would'st know what thou must do , And with my Saints partake . Go up to yonder Mount , Thence look , and thou shalt spye , Clear as the Sun , what must be done , Presented to thine Eye : Seest thou them folded Flocks , Whose heart the Spirit tyes : Whom Gospel order calls into Distinct Societies ? Seest thou the Fields , where they Enjoy their heavenly feed ? The Shepherds stand at my command , To guide them at their need . Their Magna Charta is My Word ; my Law their Guide : O follow them that follow me , Their foot shall never slide : There go , and joyn thy self ; Thy Soul there feed and feast ; Follow their steps to Pastors Tents , And there thy Soul shall rest . CANT . I. 9. I have compared thee , O my love , to a company of horses in Pharoahs chariots . HYMN 18. MY Church ! my Love ! I 'le now begin , T' express the Joy that I am in , And sing thy Praise as thou dost mine , And tell the World why I am thine . I 've made thee fair , there 's no compare ; No worldly thing is such to me : King Pharoah's Charet-Horses were A comely sight , but not like thee . When I behold their beauty , and Coupled in order as they stand ; I more admire and Praise those Unions , My Churches have in their Communions . Were Pharoah's trappings boss'd with Gold , As if they would outshine the Sun ? Much more the pollish of thy Grace Shines ; that my heart is overcome . Did Pharoah's Horses prance along , And gladly draw his Charets on ? Such Service from thee I have found , As if thou didst not feel the ground . As Pharoah's Charets did exceed ; The best in all the world they be : Such is my Love , such is my Dove , The best in all the world to me . CANT . I. 10. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels , thy neck with chains of gold . HYMN 19. WHen Princes Daughters , in whose Veins The Royal blood doth run : Stand richly drest in all their best , By art that can be done : My Church ! thy beauty far exceeds , Thy Glory far excells : My Love ! thou 'rt fairer than them all ; In thee all beauty dwells . When rows of Jewels beautifie Their Face , and Cheeks adorn , To make thee fair in Princes Eye , And welcome as the Morn . The Graces of my Church shine forth More lustr'ous , tho but small : Methinks I see my Glory shine Upon their Faces all . When chains of Gold , the Necks enrich , Of mortal Beauties here : It draws their Eyes , who are not wise , And leads them to a snare : But happy they that can be caught With Sions Beauty so : And fall in Love , as I have done With Saints , and what they do . CANT . I. 11. We will make thee borders of gold , with studs of silver . HYMN 20. WE , Father , Son and Holy Ghost , Will all in one conspire ; To stud the Glory of thy Face , And make thee All Desire . I 'le to my Father for supplies , And largely he 'l dispence : I 'le to the Holy Ghost also , And fetch thee Riches thence . Thou shalt partake of all my stores , My Heart , my Blood , and Me ; If what 's in Heaven , or Earth can do 't , We 'l give it all to thee . We 'l with most glorious Ornaments , Pollish that heart of thine : Borders of Gold , and Silver studs , Shall make thy Glory shine : When all is done , 't is all too small A Present for my Love : I 'le give my self away also , And thou shalt live above All things but me ; for I 'le be Gold , Jewels , and every thing , And thou shalt live upon my stores , And loud my Praises sing . And then will we rejoyce in thee , When we have made thee thus : Then sin no more , ( as did before ) Shall break 'twixt thee and us : My Soul admire this fervent Fire : Such Love no Tongue can tell : Who could have thought that Christ that bought Should Love his Church so well ! CANT . I. 12. While the king sitteth at his table , my spikenard sends forth the smell thereof . HYMN 21. HOW rich and dainty is the fare , My blessed Love , and Lover dear , Provides for his beyond compare , And feasts them with his heavenly chear ? The Cloath is lay'd , the Table spread , The Dainties are his Flesh and Blood : The welcome Guests are richly fed , And He himself becomes their Food . His Presence graces all the Feast ; His smile make welcome every Guest : He sits at Table with them , where His Saints are glad to meet Him there . His presence draws their Graces forth , Faith , Love , Joy , Patience , and the rest ; The smell whereof is better worth , Than Spikenard Oyntments at the best . Thus Gardens yield their sweetest smells , When Rain and Sun extract them forth . Thus in his presence man excels , Who 's in his absence little worth . My Soul ! thy King at Table sits ; Now let thy Spikenard-Graces lend The sweet perfumes ; and pleasant sents Into his Nostrils largely send . CANT . I. 13. A bundle of myrrh is my welbeloved to me ; he shall lye all night between my breasts . HYMN 22. TEll me no more , you Sons of Art , You Students in the Case , What 't is will ease a Sick mans heart , And all his Grief displace : Jesus , when he doth please to be Refreshing from above ; How he transports me ! O I feel , My self all Fire and Love. The holy Oyl was made of Myrrh : O Christ anoint me so : Thy Body was embalm'd with Myrrh ! O Christ embalm me too ! And make me sweet , that I may greet A never dying Rest , And smell of thee , as if possest , With Myrrh upon my breast ! There is a Night of darkness , when This Myrrh is Cordial : A Night of great Affliction , then This Myrrh is all in all ▪ O let him lye between my breasts , And with his Love perfume me , And yield his heart-reviving Art ! This Night will else consume me . CANT . I. 14. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi . HYMN 23. OO me ! to me ! what comfort wer 't , Or what refreshment could I see , If he were sweet to all the World , And were not also sweet to me ? I 'le sing my well ▪ beloved's Praise , And speak what he hath been to me : Engedi's Aromatick Vines , Have never been so sweet as He. Clusters of Balsam Camphire were , In those same Vineyards past compare : Yet none so sweet , yet none so rare , As my Beloved's Odors are . How sweet was Christ upon the Cross , Making Atonement for my Sin ? Or else my Life had been my loss ▪ What a sad case had I been in ! How sweet was he within the Grave ? Himself , not spices made him so : How sweet a Bed shall I then have , When sleep with Jesus I shall go ! Blest be the day that e're I smelt , What sweet in my Beloved was : Bless be the day that ere I felt , That sweetness my Beloved has : How sweet art thou in Heaven , where Angels and Saints perfumed are ? Amidst that plenty grant there be , One cluster , Lord , lay'd up for me . CANT . I. 15. Thou art fair , my Love : behold , thou art fair , thou hast doves eyes . HYMN 24. THou 'rt fair , my Love ! Lord , how can I be fair , thus foul with Sin ! Thou 'rt fair , my Love : Lord , tell me why ▪ What transport art thou in ! I ne're am fair , but when there are , Reflections from thy Grace Darted upon me , from thy fair And most resplendent Face . Thou art my Love : Lord , can it be , When I deserve thy fury , And highly merit , that thou me Should'st in Oblivion bury ! Yet cause thy Love is like thy self , Too deep for humane Eye : Thou lov'st , because thou lov'st me , Lord , I know no reason why : Thou hast Doves eyes so pure and chast : Those Eye-beams draw my heart : In tears of godly sorrow washt : They shine like Stars in dark : Lord ! Is 't because they shall be so , When Glory makes them bright ? Or , is 't because they shine below , With my Redeemers light ? CANT . I. 16. Behold , thou art fair , my beloved , yea , pleasant . HYMN 25. NAy , thou art fair , my Love , not I : Beauty keeps house in thee alone . There is no Sun , nor Moon , nor Stars , But thou art All and every One. Away fond Pleasures , fleeting Joys : Would I had never lov'd you so : You smiling , but beguiling Toys : I 've got a wound , and you my foe . Come dearest Lord ! O let me taste Of Pleasures that are more Divine : For those are gone , but these will last ; With these refresh this heart of mine . How pleasant are thy smiles , when I Under the guilt of Sin do lye ! When I damnation every hour Expect , how pleasant is thy pow'r ! How pleasant are thy ways to me ! Thine Ordinances all are so : To Eat and Drink , and Feast with thee , There 's no such pleasure I do know . But O! when I shall come to dye , And see thy Face in endless bliss , And shall embrace the Man himself : There is no Pleasure like to this . CANT . I. 16. — Our bed is green . HYMN 26. THou hast prepar'd a Bed of love ; 'T is richly furnish'd with the best : Where thou and I eternally , Shall in each others Bosom rest : Our Bed is always green ; it knows No Winter blasts , nor no such thing : It 's always budding , fruitful grows : An ever , everlasting Spring . When vain delights transport the Rich , And seem to court the Men of pleasure : They 'r wither'd soon , and quickly gone , And fall full short in weight and measure . Give me those spiritual Joys , O Christ ! Whose colour green , will ever last : And think on me , while here I be , And send me now and then a tast . My Soul revive ! comfort thy heart , ' Mid'st all the troubles thou had seen : Revive ! for tho the Stairs be dark , The Chamber 's light , our Bed is Green. All Glory give to God above , And to our Jesus , God and Man : And to the Holy Ghost also , With all the Strength and Praise we can . CANT . I. 17. The beams of our house are cedar , and our rafters of fir . HYMN 27. COme let us sing the Praise Of our eternal House : Whose firm foundation is in Grace , Free Grace hath fram'd it thus : In Glory finished , Topstone in Glory lai'd , Rasters and Beams : eternal streams Of Love and Light display'd : Come let us enter , Grace , And here together dwell ; Till I provide a better place , Let 's rest us here a while . But , oh , that house above , When thither we shall come ; It 's built so sure , it shall endure An everlasting home . Wilt thou accept , O Christ ! Of such a one as I ? Poor I ! to take a Lease of thee , For all Eternity ? Wilt thou accept , said he , Of such a one as I , That must thy sinful will controul ? Come then , we both comply . Finis Cap. 1. Deo laus . CANT . II. 1. I am the rose of Sharon , and the lilie of the vallies . HYMN 28. SHaron , the Garden of the World , The Pride of Palestine ; Whose natural soyl more glory bore , Then Sol'mon could resign . Could ne're produce so sweet a Rose , As I w ll be to thee : So sair a Lilly never grew : Sharon must stoop to me . My Church , I praise my self ; not Pride , But hope of Custome makes me : who 'l have a Rose ? a Lilly , who ? VVhere is the Soul that takes me ? Upon the Cross I was distill'd : Come taste in distillation The sweetness of the absent Rose , By Faith and Acceptation . Thou art my Rose , my Souls repose ; O let me never be , My dearest Lord , a Thorn to thee , That art a Rose to me . Thou art the Lilly of the Vale , A matchless Purity . Let me be gather'd by thy Hand , And in thy Bosome lye . CANT . II. 2. As the lilie among the thorns , so is my love a-among the daughters . HYMN 29. MY Church ! my Love ! thou art to me , A pleasant Lily , pure and white : The Daughters all , compar'd to thee , Are Thorns and Briars in my sight . 'T is thee I prize , and singly place My heart upon thy self alone : False Creatures , tho I have their face , Are pricking Briars every one . Take it not ill , my Love , from me , That I have plac'd thy dwelling so , Incompass'd round where En'mies be : As mid'st the thorns the Lilies grow . I 'le make these thorns preserve thee safe , And keep thee from a worser foe : O , they shall save thee from the bite , Of that devouring Beast below . They shall fence out both Sin and Hell , Let out Corruption , slay thy Pride : So near thee they should never dwell , But for advantage on thy side . Now blessed Jesus , grant me this , That I may such a Lily be , And let these Thorns and Briars be A Preservation unto me . CANT . II. 3. As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood , so is my beloved among the sons — HYMN 30. THou art to me an Apple-tree , My God , for fruit and shade : An Apple-tree thou art to me : Thy fruit will never fade . Trees of the Wood , are not so good , Their Fruits are none , or sowr : An harbour they for Birds of prey , That will the Fruit devour . Better than all the Sons thou art , Hast been , and ever shall : The Angels are the Sons of God , But thou excell'st them all . The Saints are Sons of great delight , Adoption makes them so : But Son of God , and Son of Light ! There 's no such Son below . The first-born Son , is Mother's dear , Her Life wrapt up in his : But not a Son can come so near My heart , as Jesus is . O! let this Apple ▪ tree , my Lord , Within my Orchard be : Propriety makes all things sweet , Or else no sweet to me . CANT . II. 3. — I sat under his shadow with great delight — HYMN 31. LIke as the shadow from the heat , Protects and cools the panting Neet : So doth my Soul to covert fly ; Under thy wings , O Christ , to lye . Should'st thou let fall thy brightest Rays , It would consume my Life and Days : I cannot see thy Glory yet ; Thy shadow will me better fit . How glorious are thy Saints above , That see thy Face in purest love ! When such delights thy shadow can , Contribute to me , sinful man ? My Soul ! when he is shadow'd forth , In Sacramental shades to thee ; 'T is but the Picture of his worth ; But what he is , thou dost not see . O , then sit under these sweet shades , And often guide thy footsteps thither : Till we ascend to brighter glades ; In shadows lets sit down together . Be quiet , thoughts , thou irksom Flesh ; Would thou wert crucifi'd to me ! To see no sights ▪ tast no delights , Nor know no earthly thing but thee . CANT . II. 3. — And his fruit was sweet unto my tast ▪ HYMN 32. THE bitter tree , the Cross , Bore him that bore the fruit ; The choicest Fruit that ever was , His Father call'd him to 't . There Pardon ▪ grew , and Peace With God , with Man , within : A Fruit that did transcend by far The cursed fruit of Sin. Sweet pleasure is but pain ; Swe rt profits are deceit : The best of all the World , at best , Is but a subtil cheat ▪ He , he 's the fruitful tree , His fruits all pleasant be . No Joys or Toys that ere I found , Are half so sweet as he . Here I may fill my heart : O , let me have a taste : My Christ , my Fruit , thou only art , As long as Life shall last . As thou bear'st fruit for me , Let me bear Fruit to thee ▪ Do thou incline this heart of mine , That All-divine it be . CANT . II. 4. He bronght me to the banqueting house ▪ — HYMN 33. WOnder of Mercy ! now I see , And have great cause to think upon , VVhat Grace is , when it will be free , And puts its Royal cloathing on . I that deserv'd to stand at Dore , And take my Answer on my Knee ; Into the House of all his Store , Himself vouchsafes to carry me . O , the rich welcome that he gave ; My thirsty Soul at first approach ! He brought me Sweet-Meats out himself ▪ And set his choicest VVine abroach : Into his house of VVine he brings me , Leading me kindly , hand in hand , And , smiling , bids me pass the dores , VVhere all his richest treasures stand . Himself the House and Banquet is : His Presence with me , is a Feast : His Smiles are Sweet-meats , all of his , Is all in all , to every Guest . My Soul get off this dunghil VVorld , Strive to ascend the blessed Mount : No Treats but these , will ever please , Or turn to any good account . CANT . II. 4. — His banner over me was love . HYMN 34. WHat Victories I ever got , VVhat Lusts l 've overcome : To my own strength ascribe I not , But to his Grace alone : My Banner was his love to me , All my success was his : His Standard call'd me forth , and he My strength and safety is . Do but , O Christ , O do but say , Thou lov'st me ; that 's enough : Love is all VVeapons of array ; Love Armor is of proof : Love me , my God , I need no more ; My God , I ask no more : I perish if thou lov'st me not , The Battel is so sore . Here 's Sin , the VVorld , the Devil and Death ; Combin'd to bring me low : I 'm almost beaten out of Breath , ( Some help ! ) they vex me so : O , do but love me , and I shall Banners of love display , VVill break their hearts , and rout them all , And Victor get the day . CANT . II. 5. Stay me with flaggons : comfort me with apples : for I am sick of love . HYMN 35. O What redundant love is this ! What flowing streams break down the banks ! More than enough , O Lord , it is ; Love me but less , I 'le give thee thanks . Here 's love beyond all bounds and measure , So free , so full , so large , so quick : 'T is strange to see so vast a treasure . Love made me well , and makes me sick . But sick for more , and sick to see , The Fountain whence these streams do flow ; Yet sick for more ▪ and sick to be In place where this vast love doth grow . Stay me with Flaggons of that Wine , Was prest out of thy self , the Vine : Thy Blood , O Christ , will stay the Fire , That burns in me , sick with desire . O , let the Apples of my love , Cool Fires in my Love ▪ sick heart : Till I below , and thou above , Shall meet at last , and never part . Till I am sick , I am not well : O that I had this sickness Lord , Such Joy doth in love sickness dwell , Such as my health could ne're afford . CANT . II. 6. His left hand is under my head , and his right hand doth embrace me . HYMN 36. MY aking head and heart , Thou hast a hand to stay ; Another hand that shall impart , Embraces all the day . In both thy hands , O Christ , My safety is secured : Within the foldings of thy arms , My Soul is safe immured . Castles and Towers are No safeguard in my case ; Nor all the Oceans Oaken walls , With me have any place : Only his circling Arms , As with a Wall of Fire ; Defends me from the dreadful harms , Which Sin and Hell conspire : Besides the help that 's in 't ; The Love that streams this way , Conveys more Spirits to my heart , Than fear can take away . It is , O let it be , The great support I find ; That when I faint for want of thee , Thou have me in thy mind . CANT . II. 7. I charge you , O ye daughters of Jerusalem , by the roes and hinds of the field , that ye sti● not up , nor awake my Love , until 〈◊〉 please . HYMN 37. O Let him take his rest , that hath Travell'd so long , so far , To rescue Souls from burning wrath ; O , make it all your care , You Daughters of Jerusalem ; You that pretend to love him . O , give him no disturbance then , Nor to disquiet move him . I charge you by the Hinds and Roes ; Those loving Creatures shall Witness against you as your foes , And on you Vengeance call . If you more bruitish than the Beast , That wont molest his Master , Shall by your Sin disturb his rest , And bring him to disaster . O Christ , my Love ! Give thou the charge , The house and all is thine : O , take the Keys and the walk at large , Command whate're is mine . I cannot bind them to the Peace , A weak and private man : Authority can make them cease , Let Sin do what it can . CANT . II. 8. The voice of my beloved ! behold he comes leaping upon the mountains , and skipping upon the hills . HYMN 38. 'T Is my beloveds Voice , I 'm sure , 'T is not a Stranger 's fallacy : That breatheth in the Word so pure , In which I learn that he is nigh : Behold , I see him coming , tho The Hills and Mountains of the Earth : The great Zanzumming Tyrants do Oppose his Actions in their birth . Behold he comes , you Princes all , That have oppos'd his Royal Will ; You must expect a dreadful fall , That Vengeance should your Besomes fill . Leaping and Skipping on the Hills , Trampling upon your greatest Pow'rs , Dancing with pleasurable skills ; He 'l pull down all your lofty Tow'rs : Behold he comes , you shall not hinder , No difficulty stands before him , But he 'l be sure to tread it under , And shortly make your Crowns adore him . Make haste , my God , make no delay ; Thy waiting Spouse hath long sat up ; O , make thee Wings , and come away ; Give Antichrist her bitter Cup. CANT . II. 9. My beloved is like a Roe , or young Hart — HYMN 39. O My beloved Lord ! To me thy grace afford : The flames of thy sweet love to me , Kindle my love to thee . Give me but leave to love thee , That art so much above me : Let me be bold to let thee know , To thee my self I owe. My God , my heart is thine ; 'T is thine , it is not mine : Let me but love , and call thee so ; It 's all the bliss I know . Thou art a pleasant Roe , Hunted to Death below ; Whose Flesh and Blood for Sinners need , Is Meat and Drink indeed . Thou art a loving Hart , Kill'd with a murd'ring dart : A murd'ring dart that drew a flood , Of dear and precious blood : O , let that Blood me purge , From Sins , Filth , Guilt , and Scourge , And let that broken Flesh me Feast , Till I with thee shall rest . CANT . II. 9. — He standeth behind our wall , he looks forth out at the windows , he shews himself through the lattices . HYMN 40. HE shews himself in cloudy gleams , Obscure and Window-Visions : Glimpses of Love , and twilight beams , And dark Illuminations . Why doth my Love immure his Face , And shrow'd himself behind our Wall ? The Lattices Eclipse his Grace , And Windows interrupt his call : Is it because the visive Powers Of Mortals can't endure his sight ; Or to distinguish these dark hours , From those that shine in perfect light ? What ere it be , 't is just that he Should now and then withdraw his Face : And 't is rich Grace to let me see , The least glance in the darkest place . Behind our Wall , is not so far , That I should think him wholly gone : These Lattices and Windows are Helps to discern he 'l come anon . A clearer sight , O , that I could Obtain ! a sight that doth excel : There is no fear that e're I should Admire too much , or Love too well . CANT . II. 10. My beloved spake , and said unto me , Rise up , my love , my fair one , and come away . HYMN 41. WHose is this rousing Voice , I hear , That breathes so sweet an Air , Through Walls and Lattices ? so dear , So ravishing , so rare ! 'T is my Beloved's voice , I know , That Courts my drousie mind : That bids me rise from things below , And leave my self behind . Arise , my Love , and come away , Rouse from thy Morning sleep : Rise up , my fair One , no delay ; Tho lock't in Slumbers deep . My God , I come , I find no rest , No Bed of Ease , but thee : The present World is at the best , A Bed of Thorns to me . My God , I come ; but oh , how loath ▪ I've drunk a sleeping Cup : And O , the dulness ! O the sloath ! Dear Jesus help me up : Then will I come away , and leave My Sins and Fears behind me : Farwel vain Pleasures , let me go , And let my Jesus find me . CANT . II. 11. For lo , the Winter is past , the rain is ov● and gone . Ver. 12 The time of singing of birds is com● , the voice of the Turtle is heard in our land Ver. 13 The fig-tree putteth forth her gre● figs , and the Vines with the tender grape● give a good smell . Arise , my love , my fai● one , and come away . HYMN 42. REjoice ye people of the Lords , There is a glorious day ; There is a day will break your Cords , And fright your Fears away : The Winter blast is almost past ; Farwel the Rain and Flood : Now Antichrist no more shall tast The sweet of Martyrs blood . There comes a Church-reviving Spring ; The Flow'rs adorn the Earth : The Turtles with the Birds do sing ; All hearts are full of Mirth . A time when every Tree shall yield , A pleasant Fruit to God : And all the Creatures of the Field , Shall feel no more his Rod. Rise then , my Love , and come away , Stand ready for the time : Prepare thee , for this long'd for day , And let it find thee mine . Awake ! behold , I 'm at the door , Let me not find thee sleeping : My Spirit is up , I 'le quickly put An end to all thy weeping . CANT . II. 14. O my Dove ! that art in the clefts of the rocks , in the secret places of the stairs : let me hear thy voice , for sweet is thy voice , and thy countenance is comely . HYMN 43. MY mournful , chast and harmless Dove , My Spouse thou art , and thee I love : I've hide thee in the craggy Rock , As if secur'd by Key and Lock . The clefts and rendings of my Side , Op'ned a passage to my Heart , And there my Dove shall safe abide , And thou and I will never part : The Hawks , and other Fowl's of prey ; The Winter Storms of Persecution , Shall but intice my Dove away , And cleave my Heart for her Admission ▪ The secret places of the Stairs , Where she retreats to breathe her Pray'rs , Are open to my view ; my Dove , I 'le meet thee there , and shew my Love ▪ O , let me hear thy Voice , my Dear , Tho broke and inarticulate : Thy Nonsense I 'le be glad to hear , And prize the Pray'r which thou dost hate ▪ O , let me see thee now and then , That sees thee always from my place . Present thy self once and agen ; It 's joy to me to see thy Face . CANT . II. 15. ●ake us the Foxes , the little Foxes that spoil the vines , for our vines have tender grapes . HYMN 44. TAke us the subtil Foxes , Lord , They are too wise for us to take : They spoil thy holy places , and Intrenching there their Burrows make . They bark and peil the fruitful Vines : O tender thou the tender Grapes : Surround them by thy wakeful pow'r , Till it be said , not one escapes . Let them be taken in their craft , Thou in the Trenches dig their Graves : Pluck off their Foxes skin , and drown Their Carcases in wrathful Waves . Let all the World see what they are , Let them not cheat thy Churches more : Entrap them in the traps they lay , And lay their Sin at their own door . Blessed Redeemer keep my Soul ; A weak and tender Grape am I , A tender Grape that can't escape A little Foxes subtilty . Preserve thy Chruch , and her desend , From Lions teeth , and Foxes wiles : So will we sing to our great King , When thou shalt bless our Cheeks with ( smiles . CANT . II. 16. My beloved is mine , and I am his : he feeds among the lilies . HYMN 45. O Blessed day , that I can say , My Jesus , thou art mine : O blessed day , that I can say , My Jesus , I am thine ! My Christ is mine by deed of gift , And that 's a title good : And I am his by purchase right , He bought me with his Blood. I 'le have no other Love but he , I like my choice so well : He 'l have no other Spouse but me ; Together let us dwell : He feeds among the Lilies white ; There he doth most frequent : Amongst his Saints , all his delight Is plac'd to his content ▪ Their Graces are his sweet repast , Their Pray'rs and Praises are A Banquet to him , and their Faith His most delicious Fare : O let but me , and this Church be A Field of Lilies , where My Christ may feast , what likes him best , Upon his sent-in chear . CANT . II. 17. Until the day break , and the shadows flee away : turn my beloved , and be like the Roe ▪ or the young . Hart upon the mountains of Bether . HYMN 46. WHy stays the lingring Day ? What ails the Morning light , To lye a Bed so long , while I Am longing for its sight ? There is a Nuptial day Shall perfect all ere long : When all the shades shall flee away , And all the Saints shall throng Into the Bridal room , And coalesce in one : One Heart , one Spouse , to Christ alone , Made so by Union . A bright and glorious day , No clouds shall hide the Sun : And universal Joy shall raise The heart of every one . The glorious Angels shall These Nuptials celebrate , And gladly sound their Trumpets round , At a Triumphant rate . Till then , protect me Lord , And turn thy steps to me : O hasten , hasten , all thou canst ; Delays Distractions b● ▪ O , be thou like the Roe , With winged speed make haste , Or as a Hart that runs apart , On Bethers Mountains fast . Finis Cap. 2. Triuni gratias . CANT . III. 1. By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth : I sought him , but I found him not . HYMN 47. MY God! I love thee with my Soul , And yet I lye in Bed ; Tho thou art mine , and I am thime , My heart is almost dead . Such drowsie damps o'recast my Joys ; I seek thee half asleep : And now I cannot hear thy Voice , I only sigh and weep . I seek thee , but I find thee not : My Lord , where art thou gone ? Into what Covert art thou got , And leav'st me here alone ? A sloathful Suitor I have been ; It prompts me to conclude : My Christ won't humour drowsiness ▪ Nor mind dull Solitude . Wake me , my God , with Voice and Rod : O rouse my drousie Senses : Let me not lye , and sleeping dye , Or idly make pretences . My Soul awake , and rise , and shake This dulness off : for why ? If thou will vainly live to sleep , Then must thou sleeping dye . CANT . III. 2. I will arise now , and go about the city , in the streets , and in the broad ways : I will seek him whom my soul loves : I sought him , but I found him not . HYMN 48. IN vain do I divert my self , And think the World shall ease me : And roul my self in earthly Pelf , And in its Pleasures please me . In the broad ways and City ▪ streets ; A Christ is rarely found : A Soul distrest , he seldom greets Upon such dirty ground . Thou ' ast left this wicked World long since : O , Christ thou art not there : O , let me get me out from hence , And seek some other where . Be gone , vain Pleasures , empty Toys , You please , yet vex me sore : You interrupt my sp'ritual Joys : I 'le never love you more . I seek in vain , my Christ to gain , He dwells in other places : You 'r all my hindrance , and my sin , I 'le never see your Faces . I thought I might enjoy his Light , In midst of worldly Pleasure : But I have found the World abound With no such blessed Treasure . CANT . III. 3. The watchmen that go about the City , found me : to whom I said , Saw ye not him whom my soul loveth ? HYMN 49. YOu spiritual Watchmen at the Gate : O you whose Office 't is To pity my distressed State , And tell me where he is : He whom my Soul loves ; you know who , I shall not need to name : The Earth , the Seas , the Heav'ns and you , Are filled with his Fame . Tell me , O tell me , where he is , If it be known to you : He is my only Joy , and Bliss , My Life and Heaven too ? If I can't find him , I must dye , What is this Life to me ? If he absent , my Soul is spent : O , tell me where is he ▪ He that my Sin hath griev'd away , Whose absence now I moan , That shed his Blood for my Souls good : O , whither is he gone ? What! can't you answer ? are you such Watchmen that cannot see ? Or want you pow'r in this dark hour , To bring my Lord to me ? CANT . III. 4. It was but a little that I passed from them , but I found him whom my soul loveth : I held him , and would not let him go , until I had brought him into my mothers house , and into the chamber of her that conceived me . HYMN 50. MY Soul , if thou a Christ would'st find , In a distressed gloomy day ; Unto the Shepherds bend thy mind , And they 'l instruct thee in the way . No sooner parted from them , when I found my Joy , my Souls delight : My heart did dance within me then , And I was ravish'd with his sight . I found my Jesus ; let me come , And him imbrace with both these arms : That like the rising of the Sun , Did rid my Soul of Midnight harms . My Soul ! now hold him fast , and don't Disturb his quiet any more , Thy life and happ'ness lyes upon t : A fresh departure will be sore : I 'le bring him to my Mothers House , There 's Souls to save , as well as mine : I 'le Feast him there , with all that 's rare , And give him most delicious Wine . The Wine that makes his heart full glad , Is when he tastes the Loves of those That once were Rebels , or as bad , That are his Friends , and were his Foes . CANT . III. 5. I charge you , O ye Daughters of Jerusalem , by the Roes , and by the hinds , that ye stir not up , nor awake my beloved , till he please . HYMN 51. WHat pity 't is that such a Guest , Whose Essence is all Love : Should be disturbed in his rest , And forc'd to make remove . You Members of his Churches all , Would I could charm you so ; By Roes and Hinds , to still the Winds , And make no noise below . He gave me rest the other day , When I was almost dead With frights and fears , and drown'd in tears , He lifted up my head . I never met with Joy till then , Nor never knew a day , Nor saw a Sun till he was come , To fright my Fears away . Contentments ! there are no such things , There is no Sunshine-weather : No happiness , but that which brings Christ and my Soul together . 'T is just that you and I requite This blessed Peace he gave us , And freely give him rest for rest , As our dear Lord would have us . CANT . III. 6. Who is this that cometh out of the Wilderness like pillars of smoak , perfumed with myrrh and frankincense , with all powders of the merchant ? HYMN 52. I Heard him speak his Love to Saints , That were out of desertion creeping : Arabian deserts spicy fumes , Ne're smelt so sweet , as smoak of weeping . Who 's this ! what glorious Person 's this , That takes this solitary path ; That fears no way , nor Beasts of prey ; Of Desert-frights , no terror hath ? But through all these dangers dares To come to a despised Jesus , And warily scapes the Desert-snares , And crys , There 's nothing else will please us ▪ It is my Church ; to me she seems , Like to some smoaky Pillar ▪ which Fir'd by the Holy Spirit means To soar alost an heav'nly pitch . She 's in my Nostrils sweet perfume ; The Merchant-Powders worthless be : The Myrrh , the Frankincense may soon Their Odors lose , but never she : Her Gifts and Graces , Pray'rs and Tears , Her Faith and Patience , Joy and Fears , Her Up's and Down's , her Sigh and Groans , Like bruised Myrrh , perfume the Air. Come forward then with winged pace , And leave this Wilderness behind : The nearer me , the sweeter place ; Be thou but loyal , I 'le be kind . CANT . III. 7. Behold his bed , which is Solomons : threescore valiant men are about it , of the Valiants of Israel : HYMN 53. KIng Solomon's Bed , that guarded was With threescore Men of Might , Whose Weapons breathed Fire to those , That wak'd him in the Night ; Types out the Royal Guards , that tend His Throne and Diadem : Numberless Angels guarding him , That Guards himself and them : My Jesus ! he is now at rest , At Gods right hand of Pow'r , And of eternal Joy possest , Secur'd as in a Tow'r . No might nor spight shall ere affright ; The bloody sweat is past : No more the Tears shall trickle down , That trickl'd down so fast . The flaming Cherubims of old , That kept the Tree of Life : Still keep the Chambers of the Lamb , And his beloved Wife . O thou that lov'st my Soul , command , Send me but one of those : But one of these sweet Angels , and I 'le never fear my foes . CANT . III. 8. They all hold swords , being expert in war , every man hath his sword upon his thigh , because of the fear of the night . HYMN 54. ANGELS expert in War , Heav'ns great Artillery : Gods Hosts unseen , Defenders are Of my dear Love and Me. 'T is not ' cause I deserve To have a Life guard by me ; But ' cause he in a Bed of love Will please to settle nigh me . If Hosts against me rise , And men of War shall scare me : The Lord of Hosts will send his Hosts , They in their arms shall bear me . The Lord will Muster up , And send them to the Courts Of Tyrant ▪ Rulers , who shall down With them , and all their Forts . Believe it , there are Thrones , And Nobles sit upon them : Above the earthly greatest Ones , And Judgments issue from them . These , these shall do us right , When we can nothing do ; With Herod's of the World shall fight , And overcome them too . CANT . III. 9. King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon . Ver. 10 He made the pillars thereof of silver , the bottom thereof of gold , the covering of it of purple , the midst thereof being paved with love , for the daughters of Jerusalem . HYMN 55. KIng Solomon's Charet for his Bride , Of Wood of Lebanon was made : This Charet bottom was of Gold , This Charet Silver pillars had . Cover'd with Purple , pav'd with Love : But O , how far surpast by him , Who is All love from head to foot , To draw all Love to him agen . Jesus , King Jesus , for his Spouse , For the Lambs Wife , his Bride , hath built A far more glorious Chariot , which With Love and Pow'r is double gilt : Brac'd with the everlasting Arms , Whose covering is eternial Glory , Whose substance is a Love that warms , Whose Wheels run to the Joy before ye . Now blessed be that boundless Love , And blessed be that endlefs Power , And blessed be that God above , That made his Chariot like a Tower. This Honour all his people have , They go on foot , and yet they ride : Thus rides the Princes , when advanc't In stately Pomp , by Prince his side . CANT . III. 11. Go forth , O ye daughters of Zion , and behold king Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals , and in the day of the gladness of his heart . HYMN 56. O That , that blessed day were come , When we might meet our Solomon , Crown'd King of Saints , and Nations , and Having the World at his command ! His Father hath already Crown'd him , Giv'n him a Title to this thing : When shall his Mothers arms surround him , And Crown him her eternal King ? 'T will be the gladness of his heart , When he shall once espouse that Spouse : When Kingdoms shall their Loves impart , And all his Foes caught in a Noose : Arise ! descend thou Royal Prince , Thy Coronation-day is come : In Seat of thy Magnficence , Thy Church would fain affix thy Crown . Thy Mother , Sister , Brother , wait , And long to see that blessed day , When Sin and Sorrow 's out of date , And crowned Jesus bears the sway . O , when shall Jews and Gentles both , Fasten thy Crown upon thy head ! Gentiles have done it , Jews hold off ; By both must this be managed . Finis Cap. 3. Deo gratias . CANT . IV. 1. Behold , thou art fair , my love , behold thou art fair — HYMN 57. I That have made and form'd , By curious Art and Skill : The Beauties of the upper World , According to my Will ▪ I that behold and see Those beauties all the day : ( Should Mortal eyes but steal a glance , 'T would take their Lives away : ) Yet I say , thou art fair , Thy Graces beauties are : My Fathers face and mine doth shine Upon that Face of thine . The trifling Beauties which Fond Lovers idolize , Are not so fair , nor half so rich As thou art in my Eyes : O how I love that Soul , That 's true to God and me ! My heart 's inclin'd , my Love is blind , Their faults I cannot see . I 'le shortly bow the Heav'ns : O how I long to come ! I will arise , and rend the Skies , And fetch my fair One home . CANT . IV. 1. — Thou hast doves eyes within thy locks — HYMN 58. NOw I 'le consider in its place , And view my Blood-redeemed prize ▪ The sparkling Diamonds of thy Face , The Dove-like Beauty of thine Eyes . Thou hadst an Eye of Flesh was wont To send forth Beams of lustful Fire , That after Vanity did hunt , And fill thy heart with base desires . A wandring tempting rouling Eye , A Casement ope't to let in Sin : But now 't is chaste , with eyesalve washt , And takes diviner Objects in : But O , that intellectual Eye , Whereby thou seest things unseen ; Whose objects quite are out of sight , That eyes me through the darkest Screen ! That shines like Diamonds in the dark , Or Stars that brighten blackest Night : Knowledg and Faith such Power hath , To see by Dark as well as Light. My Soul admire , and raise thee higher , With both these Eyes behold that spark , Whose Beams have giv'n thee light and sight , That once were blind and in the dark . CANT . IV. 2. — Thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from mount Gilead . HYMN 59. THe hair , the Beauty of the Face , That taking Ornament ; That blusheth nothing at disgrace ; It 's cut , it 's shav'd , it 's rent ; It open lies to all assaults , And yet it feels it not : The Razors shave , the Sizars cut All wrongs are soon forgot . My Church , I love thy Patience , This I admire in thee , Under all injuries content ; Those that affront thee , win thee . Like Goats on Gileads Mountains shorn , Stript of their hairy Fleece : Yet not a groan , all wrongs are born , Their sheering breaks no Peace . This warms thy heart , as hair thy head : How ornamental ' t is ! When Patience can impow'r a man To conquer all he sees : With this sweet frame , in love I am : It 's rare in my account : To be forgot , and feel it not , Is Patience paramount . CANT . IV. 3. Thy lips are like a thred of Scarlet , and thy speech is comely — HYMN 60. THy rosie Lips with Scarlet dye , Gives beauty to thy Face : Inflames with love th' Observers eye , A thousand beauties has : Made red , not with thy Blood , but mine ; It 's from my passion fed ; No natural Colour in this World , Can yield so deep a red : O , how I love these ruby Lips , I love to hear them speak ; Thy Pray'rs and Praises , Nectar sips , To me , tho faint and weak . Thy Doctrines , Counsels , Cordials are , To me and those that hear them : Thy sharp reproofs are killing darts , Yet health to those that bear them . My Soul admire , and much desire , Thy Soul 's admiring Lover : Be it thy Grace , thy words to place , And tell thy Speeches over , As men tell Gold , O , weigh thy Words , Thy Speech exactly measure : So shall thy King delight to sing , And praise this vocal Treasure . CANT . IV. 3. — Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks . HYMN 61. I Love thee , for thy Cheeks , my Spouse , A Virgin blush adorns them : The modesty that crowns thy Brows , A holy shame informs them : Have you not been where you have seen The blushing Pomegranate , All overspread with rosie red , As Nature did create ? Thy Temples shaded in thy Locks , With rosie blushes spread , Doth much express thy bashfulness : True Vertue vails her head . Thy guilt and shame , for what 's to blame , Thou canst not face it out : Thy flushings , blushings , fears and tears , Are beauties out of doubt . My Soul ! this consternation due , Becomes the Virgin-bride Of that same bleeding Lover , who For thy Salvation dy'd ▪ O let me never , never trace , The steps of Sinners bold : Nor hide my Sin , but hide my Face , As with a blush control'd . CANT . IV. 4. Thy neck is like the tower of David , builded for an armoury , whereon there hang a thousand bucklers , all shields of mighty men . HYMN 62. YE eldest Sons of living day , Peers of the Upper-House ; And all you Commoners below , Come and behold my Spouse . Thy stately Neck , like Davids Tower , Built for an Armoury : Unites thy Body to thy Head , Never to part ; and why , A thousand Shields the promise yields , As many Swords thy Faith , Tho Hell and Devils do their worst , Thy Soul Protection hath . Thou shalt not truckle , no nor buckle To inimical spight : Strong in the Lord thou art , and in The Power of his Might . Thy Fire-breathing Cannons fly In face of all thy Foes : For thee a Davids Tower am I , ' Gainst all that thee oppose : If sin or men infest thee , then Thy Neck a Tower is ; Thy Soul , tho tost , shall ne're be lost In such a Tow'r as this . CANT . IV. 5. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins , which feed among the lilies . HYMN 63. THy Breasts , the seat of Love , And Natures Ornament , With full-pent milky treasures give Thy off-spring nourishment . Such milky streams do flow , To nourish all thy Seed , As fruitful Roes that fat their twins , And midst the Lilies feed . Thy Sons and Daughters are Begat from Heav'n above : A num'rous Off ▪ spring will appear In that great day of Love : Thou hast two Testaments , Repleat with Milk Divine , With these thou sucklest all my Saints , And mak'st their Faces shine . I must admire the man That springs from such a Father , That strongly draws by Graces laws , The breasts of such a Mother . Then drink and thirst again , As Babes the Breasts adore : Till thou shalt come to thy blest home , And drink and thirst no more . CANT . IV. 6. Until the day breaks , and the shadows flee away , I will get me to the mountains of myrrh , and to the hill of frankincense . HYMN 64. THere is a blessed day will break A glorious Light will shortly come , Whose rays will make the shades betake , As frightned , to their lasting home . A day will drink up all the Rain , And scatter all the Fogs away : And fully rout the dreadful train Of Clouds , that now Eclipse the day . No more shall Sin or Fears bespatter The glorious beauty of thy Face : No more shall bloody Tyrants scatter Their roaring Bulls in every place . There is a day and door of hope ; ( I mean , to hasten all I can ) That will surprize both Turk and Pope , And the blood-thirsty wicked man. Till then , the mount of Myrrh above , And Heaven's hill of Frankincense , Must for a while obscure my Love , And Person , from the eye of sence . But do not fear ! from that Ascent , As from a Mountain , I can see ( And did before ) how all things went : Till then , do thou confide in me . CANT . IV. 7. Thou art all fair , my Love , there is no spot in thee . HYMN 65. MY Love , thou art all fair , In thee no spot appears : I ▪ ve washt thee white , from what was black , In precious blood and tears : Thy parts are all inspir'd , All Graces in thee shine : Each faculty my Love hath fir'd , And charm'd that heart of thine . Degrees are wanting still ; 'T is yet thy Infant-state : But yet we can spell out a man , In Limbs that are not great . I 'le pollish thee , my Dove ! I 'le off with every spot ; I 'le drive the trade till it be said , What Graces hast thou not ! Thy Sin and Guiltiness , My Royal Robe shall cover , And my imputed Righteousness , Shall make thy God thy Lover : My Soul ! 't is done for ever : For ever praise his name ; His Blood was shed , thy Sins are dead , Never to rise again . CANT . IV. 8. Come with me from Lebanon ( my Spouse ) with me from Lebanon : look from the top of Amana , from the top of Shenir and Hermon , from the lions dens , from the mountains of the leopards . HYMN 66. ANd now my welbeloved Spouse , Since I have set thee free , And clear'd thy stains , that none remains , Now love thy self and me . Come , Royal Princess , come with me , Thou shalt not come alone : My presence shall thy Conduct be , Only consent and come ▪ From Lebanon , that Mount of Pleasures , And from Amana too : These barren Mountains yield no treasure , Arise and let us go From Lions jaws , and Leopards paws , And all the wicked rout : From Traytors gins , and Spoylers dens ; Come , I will lead thee out . There 's nothing can degrade a man , Like bruit-Society , Or make him from his Essence come , Like wicked company : Resolved then , I 'le leave these men , Whom I did once adore ▪ At Jesus call , I 'le leave them all , And ne're come at them more . CANT . IV. 9. Thou hast ravished my heart , my Sister , my Spouse ; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes , with one chain of thy neck . HYMN 67. MY Sister , by the Father's side ; And Spouse , by all consent : Sister adopt , and Spouse elect , I 'm full , and I must vent . My ravisht heart hath felt a dart , And I am all desire : I , who created Fire and Love , With Love am set on Fire . Something hath smote me from thine eye : That eye of Faith , it is , That single wounding eye of Faith , That makes me love thee thus . That dares upon a naked word Of Promise trust me so : That will secure it self of Love , Ev'n whether I will or no. The chain is Love , that draws my Love ; Do thou but say , thou lov'st me : It is a chain , I captive am , And nothing e're removes me . My Soul ! fix this same Eye of Faith Upon him stedfastly : Fasten the link with sodring Love , He 's thine eternally . CANT . IV. 10. How fair is my Love , my Sister , my Spouse ! how much better is thy love than wine ! and the smell of thine oyntments than all spices ! HYMN 68. THou 'rt fair , my Love , thy Love is fair : How fair I can't express : Better than Wine ; but how much better , I leave to thee to guess ! Love is heart-chearing wine ; bestow A glass of Love upon me , And I 'le forget my Sorrows great , The wrongs that have been done me . I have no thirst but for thy Love ; Love me , and stay my thirst : O do but try to love me ; why ? Because I lov'd thee first . Let no perfume henceforth presume , To gratifie my wants ; No Spices sweet , my Nostrils greet ; There are no sweet but Saints . I love them with a pard'ning love , Their follies I forgive . I Love them with a lasting love , That shall for ever live . Amazement stops my verse and me ! O Lord , that lov'st me thus ; O let me never , never be Unkind , ungracious ! CANT . IV. 11. Thy lips , O my spouse , drop as the honey ▪ comb : honey and milk are under thy tongue — HYMN 69. THe gracious words thy lips adorn , Like drops of Honey from the Comb : 'T is Canaan's Language newly born , From a Divine inspired Tongue . Honey and Milk are not so sweet , As savoury Speeches dropping down , That nourish whomsoe're they meet , And from a spir'tual Fountain come . When Lips drop sighs , and Eyes drops tears In penitential sight of Sin : When Speech drops Praises , and strong Pray'rs , It shews a Honey ▪ comb within . When nour'shing , and soul ▪ fatting words , Lye breeding underneath the Tongue : And when due season birth affords , This , this my Love inspires my Song . My Soul , learn this ! Are gracious words So sweet to Christ thy dearest friend : Then don't impose upon his nose , The Carr'on stink that base words send . Season my Lips with Salt , my God , And sift my Language from its dross : For why should I so foolishly , With Speeches vain contract my loss ? CANT . IV. 11. — And the smell of thy garment is like the smell of Lebanon . HYMN 70. NAked , and in thy blood ▪ before , Unpollisht , rude and rough : I spread my Skirt , and threw quite o're , A Garment large enough : And now like blessed Jacob , in The Priestly Robe , his Mother Vested him with , he passeth fair , And go'th for elder Brother . Even thus imputed purple smells , When on the Sinner thrown ; Like to a Field which God hath blest : Tho borrow'd , 't is thy own . The fragrant smells of Lebanon , The Mount of Canaans glory : There never was such sweetness as These Garments shed before ye . When once thou gett'st my Garment on , Art with my Merits clothed : My Father takes thee for his Son , And for his best beloved . My God! perfume my Soul , and vest it , And in thy Bosome lay it : Upon thy tender Bowels rest it ; 'T is done , if thou but say it . CANT . IV. 12. A garden inclosed is my Sister , my Spouse : a Spring shut up , a fountain sealed . HYMN 71. MY Spouse ! I have enclosed , And strongly fenc'd thee in , With rocky Walls , and scorching Fire ; Thou hast my Garden been . If men dare scale the Flames , To their own loss they venture : I 'le keep thee so on every side ; They 'l knock , but shall not enter . I 'le plant thee with sweet Flow'rs , And every fruitful Tree ▪ And all about I 'le make me Bow'rs , And take my walks in thee . I 'le shut and seal thee up , No dirty foot shall see Thy heavenly Springs and Waterings , Thou shalt my Fountain be . O thou , the Spring of Springs , Whose Fountains always run : Fountain of Fountains , and all things , From thee my Waters come . O thou , the King of kings , Plant thou thy Garden round : Let every walk thy Praises talk , In thee my fruit is found . CANT . IV. 13. Thy plants are an Orchard of Pomegranates with pleasant fruits , Camphire with Spikenard . Ver. 14 Spikenard and Saffron , Calamus and Cynamon , with all trees of frankincense , Myrrh and Aloes , with all the chief spices . HYMN 72. COme , now , my Sister , let us go , And how see the young of Sets do ▪ The Standarts must not stand , I have A better use to put them to . These I 'le transplan● to Paradice , With Glory I will fill their faces : They must be gone , their work is done , The young ones must supply their places . The Lambs , the Babes , my Churches breed , Are a more rav'shing sight to me : Than the Pomegranate full of seed , Or all the Arabian spices be . The Spikenard , Camphire , and the rest Of choicest Aromatick fumes , Are worthless , when they do their best , Let them be buried in their Tombs . But O , the Joy I take to see My pregnant Church her Children bear : The young ones that convert to me ! My choicest Heaven on Earth is there . Young ones awake , since I do take Such pleasure in your budding Graces : Repent , Convert , or 't will be Death For you to let me see your faces . CANT . IV. 15. A fountain of gardens , a well of living waters , and streams from Lebanon . HYMN 73. IF I a Garden am , thou art , O Christ , the living Spring ; If I have any sprouting Plants , The Water thou dost bring . No Water , then no Fruit , no growth , No Spire can pierce the Clods : The Fruit I bear , if it be rare , It is not mine , but Gods. My heart was dead the other day , And then sweet Mercy came , And washt it in a Spring of Blood ; It came to Life again . My heart was hard , as I may say , As hard as any Stones : I drench it in the living Spring , And it to softness comes . My heart was cold , as cold as Ice ; Some heat it did require : I found the living Waters had In them a living Fire . Now let thy dying , living blood , Stream as from Lebanon : Water my wants , and wash my Plants , Or we are all undone . CANT . IV. 16. Awake , O North-wind , and come thou South , blow upon my garden , that the spices thereof may flow out — HYMN 74. I Must have Air and Wind , As well as Water , Lord : Or else my Garden , that is I , No fruit can ere afford : Arise North-wind and South , Rough and serene , both best , And do thou time their gates and thine : In both Ish all be blest . There 's not one Plant will thrive , Or Flower hold its scent , Unless thy Spirit , Lord , contrive To breathe their Nutriment . How will the Spices flow ? How will my Graces flourish , If thy sweet Spirit please to blow , And drooping Flowers cherish ! For loves-sake let me beg ; O Holy Ghost , thy Grace , Thy Breathings , Giftings , Fillings , Seals ; Let each work take its place . If my Beloved come , As he a coming is : Not finding me and Fruit at home , He 'l say my heart 's not his . CANT . IV. 16. — Let my my beloved come into his Garden , and eat his pleasant fruit . HYMN 75. MY Garden is thy Garden , Lord , Therefore do thou the Winds awake : Let sharp and cold North-winds accord , With gentle South , and their turns take . Sometimes I need a nipping Frost : ( Lord , not too sharp , lest all be lost : ) To cross my sin , let me be crost ; But Winds serene advantage most . Let North awake and stop ; but let The South awake , and come and blow : Too much the North will nip the fruits ; But O , the South will make them grow . O Spirit of Love , and harmless Dove , Do thou take wings and fly to me : Or else give wings to climbing Love , And quickly I will up to thee . My Lord , here 's little fruit for thee , Tho my Souls Garden do its best : But if thou com'st , there 's Fruit for me ▪ Tho I have none , I shall be blest . Thus poor Folks entertain the King , And Landlords sit at Tenants table ; They have no more , but what they bring , Thou should have more , if I were able . Finis Cap. 4. Laus Jehovae . CANT . V. 1. I am come into my garden , my Sister , my Spouse : I have gathered my myrrh with my spice : I have eaten my honey-comb with my honey : I have drunk my wine with my milk — HYMN 76. WEll ! I am come , my Spouse , Thy Pray'rs have given me wings : I have accepted all thy vows , And tasted all thy things . In thee I find my myrrh , My honey-Combs I eat : Thy Milk and Wine is all Divine , Thy Spices all are sweet . Thy Plants that I have set , Are in a thriving plight : Thy heart a flour'shing Orchard is , A Garden of delight : O , how I joy to see My cost not lost upon thee : There grows sweet Fruit on every Tree : The younger Plants have won me . Thy Fruits of holiness , Are Aromatick Spices : Thy Garden , and thy self no less , To me a Paradise is . My God , how is it thus ! Can man relieve his Maker ! No ; but the grafted Cion is Of the Stocks life partaker . CANT . V. 1. — Eat , O friends , drink , yea , drink abundantly , O beloved ! HYMN 77. COme now , all you that are my Friends , My Church hath made a feast : Come fill your Souls with Nectar bowls , I call you with the rest . I 'de have you all partake of these Her inexhausted pleasures : Come eat and drink her Pray'rs , and sink Your selves into her treasures . Her Lips shall feed you , and her Graces Their bounty shall express : If Angels come , they shall have some , And Joy to every Guest . Come then , you drooping Spirits , come ; Here is a worthy prize : And if you please to drink up Seas ; I 'le give her fresh supplies . Lord of all store , I thee implore ; Since what is thine , is mine ; And what is mine , is thine ; This boon To grant do thou incline , That thou wouldst fill me with thy self , And stretch my Soul to hold thee : And I shall feast me and the rest , With what thy Love hath told me . CANT . V. 2. I sleep , but my heart waketh — HYMN 78. I Am a contradiction , Lord , I wake , yet am asleep : I am asleep , and yet I wake ; I both , and neither keep . Thus after greatest beams of Love , My heart grows cold again : As after greatest gleams of Light , The Heavens grow big with rain . When first I tasted rav'shing sweet From thy divinest Love , I thought I never more should meet With darkness from above . But now I am all Ice and Cold , My Zeal I cannot keep , As if I 'de over-drunk my self ; I 'm fallen fast a sleep . But yet my hearts awake ; I would Do better if I could The Spirit is willing , Flesh is weak ; O , make me what I should . I would not rock my self asleep : If slumber overtake me , Rouse up my drowsie Sences , Lord , And by thy Power wake me . CANT . V. 2. — It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh , saying , Open unto me , my sister , my love , my dove , my undefiled : for my head is filled with dew , and my locks with the drops of the night . HYMN 79. LOve will not suffer drowsiness , But kindly wakes his sleepy Spouse : Thus Parents wake their children whose Dull inclinations cannot rowze . Awakening Love a Voyage took , In all the Rain , and in the Deep ; To view the World , and found that part , That 's call'd Awak'ned , fast asleep . Awak'ning Love the danger saw , How sleepy Saints unuseful were ; How prone the Devil was to Rob And spoil them of their precious ware . How little love to Christ there was ; As men asleep they mind him not : How soon their Temples by a Nail Might pierced be with deadly stroke . Awak'ning Love that saw things thus , Rouseth them first , with midnight cries ▪ Cries Fire , Fire , O! the Fire of Hell Flames out ! awake , why don't you rise ? That not prevailing , turns his voice Into a Lovers earnest cry , That knocks and bounceth at the door ▪ Cold , wet ; Awake my Love , 't is I. CANT . V. 2. It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh , saying , Open to me , my Sister , my Love , my Dove , my undefiled One , &c. HYMN 80. OPen thy heart , my Love , And let thy Jesus in : And why not ope thy heart to me , As well as unto Sin ! Why not for me as well As for forbidden pleasure ! Shall I stand waiting at the door , That am thy God and Treasure ! Shall I , thy Lover , take This pains to make thee mine ; And shall a base and sordid Lust , Ensnare that heart of thine ? It breaks my heart to see My Love in Bed with Sin ; Whilest I the Husband am shut out , And may not enter in . My Jealous Heart and Eye Would prompt my Hand to take A Javelin up , and strike thee dead ; But that my Bowels ake , And yearn with Love and Pity : Rise then and let me in , And I 'le forgive thee all that 's past , And love thee well agen . CANT . V. 2. It is the voice of my beloved that knocheth — HYMN 81. HArk ! drowsie Soul ! whose Voice is that ? Whose hand that knocks at door , That pleads his entrance with such charms , I never heard before ? 'T is my beloved's : O that Love ! Now in my lapsed state , To call me Sister , Love , and Dove , And undefiled Mate ! That pleads his Journey , and his Locks Wet with the drops of Night : His head bedew'd with rain , he fain Would enter if he might . Lord , break the door , the Spirit saith , The Flesh wo'nt let me rise : Burst all the Locks and Bolts , and come , The Flesh cries otherwise . Come Jesus , sweet , and let us meet , The better part saith , Come ; But Flesh and Pleasure cries , No , no , No , no! there is no room . My God , shall Flesh prevail ? 't will be If thou stand'st neuter here , As Candle by a snuff kept down , That fain would upward soar . CANT . V. 3. I have put off my coat , how shall I put it on ? I have washed my feet , how shall I defile them ? HYMN 82. CAn'st thou not rise , my Love ? I ran To help when thou wert cast . My dearest Lord , I cannot Can , Flesh chains me down so fast . Wilt thou not rise , my Dove ? I rose When dead , to make thee rise : My Lord , I cannot will ; This Flesh So hard upon me lies . 'T is night ! 't is dark ! my coat is off , How can I put it on ? My feet are washt , and should I rise , And make them foul anon ? Thus Eve her Figleaves stitcht together ; The Bidden made excuses : The mild and gentle Jesus stands , And puts up all abuses . I might have said , Can it be Night , When day is at the door ? Or dark , when he that is the Light , Can darkness overpow'r ? I have put off my Coat ; and can't I put it on as soon ? Affronted thus , my Jesus , cry'd , Farwel my Love , I 'm gone ! CANT . V. 4. My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door , and my bowels were moved for him . HYMN 83. AS men are wont , when taking leave , To wave the hand to parting friend : I saw him do 't , my heart did heave , And all my bowels did extend . My Jesus ! I shall ne're forget That dreadful black and sad surprize : I would have rose with all my heart , But at the present could not rise . My bowels sounded , when I saw His beck'ning hand a farwel give : I thought I should have dy'd to see Him wave his hand , and take his leave . As frighted men in dreams would speak , But have not power to speak a word : My heart assai'd , to pray him stay ; My moving bowels all concur'd . I hal'd for breath , and would have cri'd , Stay Lord , I come ! but could not utter : I plainly saw my loss would be , Like riches running down a Gutter . My Soul , these damps and dreadful cramps , Contract the Sinews of the best : My God! appear , to me draw near , When such Temptations me infest . CANT . V. 5. I rose up to open to my beloved , and my hands dropped with myrrh ▪ and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh , upon the handles of the lock . HYMN 84. I Rose , I went , I op'd the door ; But I delay'd too long My dearest Lord was gone before , Distated at this wrong . Yet left a sweet persume behind ; The sign he had been there : No sooner had I toucht the Lock , My hands dropt down with myrrh . He left me not , till I him left : And never left me so : But left a vertue still behind , To sweeten all my wo. Thus Lovers will absent , but then Tokens shall blow the Flames , And keep the Fire of Love alive , And quicken the remains . My God! my heart 's a rusty Lock , Oyl it with Grace Divine : My heart is more , a chained door ; Burst up this Heart of mine . Lay thy perfuming hand upon it , And drop thy sweetness in : 'T will fire my longings to thy self ; 'T will out with Sloth and Sin. CANT . V. 6. I opened to my beloved , but my beloved had withdrawn himself , and was gone : my soul failed when he spake — HYMN 85. JEsus withdraws ! Thus when the Sun Doth bid the World good-night ; It leaves it in a Dark and most Uncomfortable plight . That word , I 'm gone ! that killing word , My heart did rend and tear : I little thought his words were Swords ; Delays denials were . I rose , but he was gone from thence , And left me all alone : I never thought , I 'le rise anon , Did Tantamount , Be gone : If tears would fetch him back , I 'de weep A Sea to waft him over ; If pray'rs , I 'de rend the Skies with cries , But I 'de regain my Lover : Wo , and alas ! my woful case ; Now am I left alone . In Fears and Cares , and thousand Tears , My Sorrows to bemoan . All you that have a Soul to save , Take warning by my fall : Make no delays , give him no Nay's ; Rise when you hear him call . CANT . V. 6. — I sought him , but I could not find him : I called him , but he gave me no answer . HYMN 86. ALL you whose tender bowels yearn , At full grown misery : Lament my case , my blubber'd face , And pity , pity me . I pray to him that heareth pray'rs ; But mine he will not hear . He hath a bottle for all Tears , But mine must not come there . I sought him that is found of All That seek him heartily : But , O my pain ! I seek in vain ; My coming makes him fly . He that once lov'd my Soul , is gone ▪ Whose love was sweet as Wine . I call him Love , he calls me Dog ; Was ever grief like mine ! My Soul , it was thy Sin , thy Sloth , That drove thy Christ away : He call'd , but fail'd ; and 't is but just , Such slightings to repay . There never was ( except 't were his ) A grief that bodes so ill : My Soul ! when he writes , Seek no more Do thou read , Seek me still . CANT . V. 7. The watchmen that went about the City , found me ; they smote me , they wounded me ; the keepers of the Walls took away my vail from me . HYMN 87. THus when the Anchor 's lost , The Ship 's expos'd to Waves , With surly Winds and Billows tost , Like greedy open Graves . As when the wounded Deer , Bleeds with the Arrow shot : The rest forsake and come not near , And blood ▪ hounds take their lot . I gat me up , and went Jerusalems Streets about ; With a most full and true intent , To find my Jesus out . The Watchmen were unkind , They smite me , wound and hale : The Keepers of the City-Walls , They took away my Vail . And this by Watchmen too ! Church ▪ Officers they were , That should have led me unto Christ , Wound me for coming there . And Keepers of the Walls , The Kingdoms Magistrates : Treat me as bad , as if I had Done Whoredom in their Gates . O what a darksome Night , When those that pray and fear , Shall be pursu'd by Law and Spight , As Thieves and Robbers are ! CANT . V. 8. I charge you , O daughters of Jerusalem , if ye find my beloved , that ye tell him , that I am sick of love . HYMN 88. YE common People of the City , From great Ones I Address to you : The Priests and Rulers have no pity ; They serve my Lord unkindly too . If you , or any of you be Engag'd in this design with me , To seek a Jesus , ( you may find him ; ) Not I that did so little mind him . Then tell him , tell him , I am sick With Love , and longing for his Presence . Tell him , my Zeal is burning quick ; Tell him he is my All , my Essence . If all the World were Gold , and mine , I 'd give it all for one sweet smile : Could Sufferings fetch him back , I 'de bear The very Pains of Hell a while . My Life 's a Death , unless my Lord , Will shew himself again to me . My Death were Life , would he accord To lead me where I might him see . Since thou can'st hide thy self from me , Where I may seek and never find thee ; But I can't hide my self from thee : Sweet Jesus seek me , till thou find me . CANT . V. 9. What is thy beloved more than another beloved , O thou fairest among Women ? what is thy beloved more than another beloved , that thou dost so charge us ? HYMN 89. FAirest of Women , tell us , who This thy Beloved is , For whom thou makest this ado , By such a charge as this . What is his Name ? what is his Fame ? Pray let us understand ? We 'l seek him too , if all be true , And seek him out of hand . There is beloved Health and Wealth , There are beloved Pleasures , There are beloved Friends and Ends , There are beloved Treasures . There a beloved Temple stands , A lovely Structure 't is : There are beloved means of Grace ; Tell which of these it is : O what is thy Beloved , that Nothing but him can please thee ! And what are these complaints , ye Saints ▪ That none but he can ease ye ? Are you of men the only wise ? Must Wisdom dye with you ? Discover thy Beloved Prize , And tell us what , and who . CANT . V. 10. My beloved is white and ruddy , the chiefest among ten thousand . HYMN 90. THou bottomless Abyss of Love ! O help me now to set thee forth . Give Inspirations from above , And let me stammer out thy worth . Look how well temper'd white and red , Sets out the beauty of the Face ! In him all beauty sits enthron'd , And all Perfections take their place . White as the Light ; and God is Light ; This Tincture speaks him perfect God : Red , as was Adams Earth ; it speaks Manhood , in which that God abode . But White and Ruddy , both in one , Speaks him a Person , God and Man : The white , the badg of Innocence , Never was black , nor never can . But red as blood , and red with blood , Drawn by the sins that we lay in . The white breathes Joy & Peace to Saints , The Red breathes blood to sinful men . This is the Man whose absence kills me ; Chiefest of thousands he 's to me : This is the man whose presence fills me : O! could I meet him ! where is he ? CANT . V. 11. His head is as the most fine Gold — HYMN 91. HIS Head the seat of Wisdom is , Most lovely to behold : His Understanding infinite , Shines like the purest Gold. This head of his is lifted up Above the starry Skies , When all his En'mies heads lye low , Shall sink , and never rise . He is the head of all his Saints By way of Eminence , More worth than all their body is , As Gold to single-pence . He is the Churches head , from whence , By way of Influence , As from a Spring of Life they have Their motion , strength , and sense . The head of Powers , which he rules By Scepter and his Rod : O what a glorious head hath he ! The head of Christ is God! Wonder not at me then , if I Complain as almost dead ; For I have lost my God , my King ; O , I have lost my Head ! CANT . V. 11. — His locks are bushy , and black as a Raven . HYMN 92. HIS locks ( not worn for Pride , Nor yet to set out sin ; Nor yet to vaunt a swelling Tide Of naughtiness within ) Speak him a Nazarite ; No Razor shaves his Head , Serving the Lord with all his might : A Separate indeed . His vow of separation Layes strongest bonds upon him ; He shall be call'd a Nazarite , His locks shall well become him : His locks are curl'd and black , The vigour of his strength Will make his Enemies go to wrack , And quell his Foes at length . You glory in your Hair , The curlings of your Tresses ; Come lay aside your filthy Pride , And to him make Addresses . This is the man I want ; This Person I must have : O , I must quickly find him out , Or I must find my Grave . CANT . V. 12. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters , washed with milk , and fitly set . HYMN 93. I 'Le tell you farther , That if such A Person you shall see , Whose eyes like Doves are washt with milk And water ; This is He. He hath a killing eye , will pierce Through Adamantine Ears , And wound a Rock but with a look , And melt it into Tears . Eyes that are clear , and fitly set , That can see all things past , And all things present , and to come , As long as time shall last : Whose eyes are purely chast : That never Open'd to let in sin ; That never did the least endeavour To take foul objects in . If such a one you meet , whose eyes Like flames and lamps of fire Strike dead , and yet give Life ; that do Confound , yet stir desire . This is the man I seek ; a man All-seeing , and All-Eye ; Tell him , if such a one you meet , 'T is for his Love I dye . CANT . V. 13. His cheeks are as a bed of spices , as sweet flowers : his lips like lilies dropping sweet-smelling myrrh . HYMN 94. HIS cheeks two fragrant beauties are , Whose Odoriferous smell Like beds of spices fresh and rare , So sweet no tongue can tell . Or like the richest flow'rs in May , Whose scent perfumes the Air ; Whose colours beautifie the day , And all mens wonder are . His lips are lily-white , and fair , The products of them sweet ; His Counsels , Kisses , Comforts , Calls , All Cordials in them meet . The man that spake as no man spake , Each word an Oracle ; The man that spake , and never hath ▪ Transgrest a syllable . Your Popes and Councils all have err'd , Those glittering trifles all ; But my Beloved's lips ne're mov'd Amiss , nor never shall . This is the man my Soul seeks ; oh ! That I could see that Face ! Them Ruby Cheeks and Lips again , In some due time and place ! CANT . V. 14. His hands are as gold-rings set with the beryl : his belly is as bright Ivory overlaid with saphires . HYMN 95. HAnds that have made the Heav'ns all , And all the Hoasts therein : That made the Sun , the Moon , the Stars , And you and me , and men . And when the work was spoiled quite , And overturn'd by sin : These hands of his went fresh to work , And made all up agen : His Belly , where his Bowels dwell , Are working out our aid ; Like Treasures in an Ivory box , With Saphires overlaid . Yearns to distressed Souls , that be ; His heart within him roles : He mindeth not his own concerns , But sinners case condoles . 'T was Bowels nail'd him to the Cross , 'T was Bowels made him dye ; 'T was Bowels set his Blood abroach For such a one as I. He pities all the World , and all His suffering Saints : But he Had no Compassion for himself : O , hath he none for me ! CANT . V. 15. His legs are as pillars of marble , set upon sockets of fine gold — HYMN 96. HIs Legs like marble pillars , set On Sockets of the finest Gold : The man I seek , and can't forget , Bears up himself , and all the World , Upon the basis of his strength , Supported are all things that be : Their heights & depths , their breadth and length ; Who Heaven and Earth sustains , that 's he . His People and their Graces stand , Not on their own Legs , but on his : More firm than ever Adam did , That walk'd the rounds of Paradice . Those little Pillars soon let fall , What was intrusted to their pow'r : But on this Marble pillar shall His Saints be kept till their last hour . Jehovah Shaddai , is his name ; The strong and mighty God is he ; There is no Tongue can speak his fame , The best but lisp his dignity . This is my well beloved one ; In all the World there 's not the like : This is the man for whom alone , I am in this distressed plight . CANT . V. 16. — His countenance is as Lebanon , excellent as the Cedars . HYMN 97. HIs Countenance , who looks upon it , Takes prospect of fair Lebanon . The objects were presented from it , Dazled the Eyes of lookers on . The various lofty Cedars there , And several sorts of other Trees . The Aromatick Fruits , there , were Graceful and grateful to the Eyes : Yet nothing like the prospect which His shining Countenance sends forth : So fair , so beautiful , so rich : O , how shall I advance his worth ? O that I could but see that face , That once so strongly drew my heart ! O that I could enjoy that place , That once I had beyond desert ! But I have lost him , he is gone , Which makes my Eyes run down with tears : I cannot find him ; left alone , I 'm almost drown'd in doubts and fears . Yet this I 'le say , I feel his hand , Altho I cannot see his face , And in his Presence still I stand , And he supports me with his Grace . CANT . V. 16. His mouth is most sweet : yea , he is altogether lovely . This is my beloved , and this is my friend , O ye daughters of Jerusalem . HYMN 98. THE gracious words that drop From his sweet Mouth , so free ; Are sweeter than the sweets , that top , Sweetness it self to me ▪ In short , this is the man , He 's altogether love , And altogether lovely ; can You find me such a Dove ? You Daughters , this is he : This my Beloved is : No tongue can teach , no Language can Express that love of his . The drops that fills the Seas , Go count them one by one , Then joyn the number , if you please , Of Stars , till there be none . To these the Sands , the Hairs , All th' objects of the sight ; Hyperbolize Immensity , And run to Infinite . This my beloved is : He is the Total Sum Of all perfection ; and the Bliss Of all that to him come . Finis Cap. 5. Laus Deo. CANT . VI. 1. Whither is thy beloved gone , O thou fairest among women ? whither is thy beloved turned aside ? that we may seek him with thee ? HYMN 99. STrange character , as e're we heard ! But is he so indeed ? We 'l seek him too , if this be true , We 'l seek him with all speed . This is the Man that onely can Put all things out of doubt : That will be Joy , and Heav'n to us , If we can find him out : Come then and let 's together seek him , As ▪ hungry men their food . And if it be our Bliss to meet him , He 'l be our chiefest good . O how our hearts are set on fire ! Pray help us seek him too : O how we burn with hot desire ! We 'l seek as well as you : My soul ! desires get desires , As Bellows blow the Flame ; As I have seen , where wood is green And Coals to Billets came . 'T is all the glory Mortals can , Bring to the blessed Jesus , To others to commend his Name , Whose matchless worth will please us . Another to the Tune of Psal . 50. IS this the Christ — The lover of thy soul ? Is this the Blest — Whose loss thou dost condole ? These praises high — Have set our hearts on fire : Let us come nigh — We burn with hot desire . We 'l seek him too — We know not where to mend us , We 'l go with you — If you 'l so far befriend us . O happy day — That ere we met with you , To lead the way — If what you speak be true : This is the man — If we can find him out , That only can — Put all things out of doubt : O , this is he — Whom if we find , we find All things that be — And can enrich the mind . My Soul ! 't is good — Desires get desires ; 'T is others food — As fire kindles fires : Thus have I seen — The Bellows raise a flame , When wood was green — And Coals to Billets came . 'T is all the glory — Poor Worms can bring to Jesus , To lay before ye — The matchless worth may please us ▪ CANT . VI. 2. My beloved is gone down into his garden , to the beds of spices , to feed in the garden , and to gather lilies . HYMN 100. COme then , and let us go Into his Gardens , where The Spices smell , and Lilies grow ▪ And we shall find him there . Where fruitful People meet , As Lily-roots abound : In Beds all plac'd , and Spices sweet , There he is to be found . Where he may feast himself With most Divine delight , And have the sweetest tasts of love ; Where Saints meet in his sight . Where holiness abounds , And where his Spirit breathes , And where his Fathers Praises sounds ; With these his Life he leads . Come then , and let us go , And leave these barren Fields ! For here 's no Flow'r , no Fruit , and so Nothing true Pleasure yeilds . The World 's a barren Heath ; The Church his Garden is , And all his Saints are all his Plants ; His Presence is their bliss . CANT . VI. 3. I am my beloveds , and my beloved is mine : he feedeth among the lilies . HYMN 101. O What a mercy'tis , that I Deserted thus , should feel a glance Of love dart from his pleasing eye , Thus wounded by desertions lance ! I 've lost him ; yet I find a ray , That drives my fright and fears away : Howe ▪ re , I pine in bitterness ; I 'm sure he 's mine , and I am his . Thus have I seen a sudden ray , Dispel the Clouds and gild the day . Under Vine-leaves a cluster hid , And faith that can all fears outbid . How bright is Faith in Bridal-robe , Whose language is , My Lord , my God! My Christ , whom I Monopolize , And can him call my only prize ! There is in that same pronoun My , A choice and sweet Divinity . What is a glorious God to me , If I can't lay my claim to thee ? I say , he 's mine , and I am his , And humbly seal it with a kiss : Angels , is Heaven for none but you ? O! this to me is Heaven too . Another to the Tune of Psal . 50. BLess me my God — What beam of Heaven is this ? Display'd abroad — The day desertion is : I 've lost my Love — And yet I find a ray , Dart from above — That drives my frights away . I 'm sure he 's mine — I am sure I am his : Howe're I pine — And mourn in Bitterness . Thus have I seen — The Sun by sudden ray ; The clouds contemn — And shine and gild the day . There is a cluster — Under the Vine-leaves hid , When faith shall muster — And false fears out-bid . How bright is Faith — When in the Bridal-robe , A full blown Faith — Whose Language is , My God. My Christ is all — Whom I Monopolize , And can him call — My Love , my only Prize , And say , I know — He 's mine , and I am his : And in it grow — Seal'd with a holy kiss . Angels admire — Is Heaven for none but you ? Let me aspire — O , this is Heaven too ! CANT . VI. 4. Thou art beautiful , my love , as Tirzah : as comely as Jerusalem : terrible as an army with banners . HYMN 102. I 'Le now unvail my self , I 'le cloud my love no longer , I 'le now appear to quench your thirst , And satisfie your hunger . I love those holy Fires , That kept themselves alive ; When almost drown'd with Seas of Tears , Thy Graces yet did thrive . Thou art all fair , my Love ; Thou art so very comely : Thou art to me so beautiful , That I admire thee only . Like Tirzah's famous Citie , Where Kings did keep their Courts , Or like that fair Jerusalem , Whose strong impregnant forts ; Whose terror struck their foes , Made them to fly the place : Such is thy Valour , O my Love , Such Thunder in thy Face . Rome , Hell , the World and Flesh , The Devil , Death and Sin : Under thy Hand do trembling stand , Such terrors are they in . It was my strength , not thine , That bare so dark a test : The strength is mine , by which thou shalt Soon vanquish all the rest . Another to the Tune of Psal . 104. THou art fair , my Love , Thou art very comely , Thou art beautiful ; I admire thee only . Tirzah's famous City , Where Kings kept their Courts , Makes me think on thee , Whose impregnant forts Terror-strike thy Foes , Conquer all that come ; With thy Swords and Shields , Battering Hell and Rome . World , Flesh , Devil , and Sin , Death , trembling stand : Nothing stands before Thy Victorious hand . Thy Arms Armies are , Thy Faith a sharp Spear . All thy Graces are Swords to make them fear : Such art thou , my Love , With thee is my strength : Arm'd by me , thou shalt Conquer all at length . CANT . VI. 5. Turn away thine eyes from me , for they have overcome him — HYMN 103. SAint , turn away thine eyes from me , For they do overcome me . Thy piercing Eye-beams wound my heart ; Turn them , O turn them from me . 'T is not thy fleshly Eyes , my Dear , For they are my disgust : No better they then filthy Styes , And Caterers for Lust . But 't is those inward Eyes that pierce me ; Those souly beams of Light , That searching eye of strong Desire , That found me in the Night . That shot its rays about the dark , And sparkled all with Fire : And that same Eye of Faith it was The life of that desire , That was so restless , till it found Its truly long'd-for Jesu ; And was well-nigh in sorrow drown'd , Till I had said , I 'le ease you . Eyes that were turned unto me , When I was turned from thee , Have made me fear the letting out Of too much Love upon thee . Another to the Tune of Psal . 104. TUrn away thine eyes , They do overcome me : Beauty in them lyes , Matchless ; turn them from me . Eyes are tempting things , Mortals find them so ▪ Eyes have conquer'd Kings , Brought their Scepters low . 'T is not fleshly Eyes , They are my disgust : They are sinf●l Styes , They are darts of Lust . That Eye of Desire , That did find me out : And sparkling with fire , Shot its rays about . Restless , till it found Its beloved Jesu , And in Sorrow drown'd , Till I said , I 'le ease you . That same Eye of Faith , Whose bright darts could kill All that Sorrow , saith , Hopeless trusting still . Eyes that turned to me , When I turn'd away : O , these eyes undo me , Conquering get the day . I fear , O my Saints , I should Love too much : My heart strongly pants ; Love to you is such . CANT . VI. 5. — Thy hair is a flock of goats that appear from mount Gilead . HYMN 104. NOw I will praise her for her hair , The modest covering of her head ; The emblem of that Loyalty , That in subjection's hand is lead . Her hairs like Counters ; cast the sum , Numberless numbers of her sins , And having washt my feet with tears , With hairs to wipe them she begins . The Goats on Gileads mountains bear A long and soft , and useful hair : But no such Hair as hers , whose tresses Adorns her face with pleasing dresses . Wo to the Crown of Pride , whose hair , Whose long and bushy Locks declare , A bruitish Custom every where , And only used for a Snare . The long hair'd Gallants of these times , Wear Horses mains on humane Faces : Turn men to Monsters , and the work Of God and Nature much disgraces . God in a bush did once appear , But in their bush hath never been ▪ They 'l never leave till Satan come , And thrust a burning Candle in . Another to the Tune of Psal . 111. THe covering of her head , With which she is bested . Her hair ▪ the embleme is Of lovely Loyalty ; Subjection under me : O what an honour ' t is ! With these she casts the sums , As well it ▪ her becomes , The number of her sins ; And having wash't my feet , VVith hair , a Towel meet , To wipe them she begins . VVo to the Crown of Pride , VVho to her Sins beside , Hath added every where , Such loathsome heads of hair , Us'd only for a Snare , To those that foolish are . That marry Horfes mains , To humane Heads ▪ whose gains They must receive in Hell : God in a Bush was seen , But never hath he been , VVhere this proud Bush doth dwell . CANT . VI. 6. Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep , which goeth up from the washing , whereof every one beareth twins , and there is not one barren among them . HYMN 105. MY Spouse , I 'le add , to praise thee more , And will repeat again : Think not , that I 'le abate my Love , Distasted at thy sin . Those teeth are washt and double set , They eat my Flesh and Blood : I am thy spiritual food of Life , I am thy chiefest good . Thy grinders are thy Faith in me , Thy Faith a stomach hath . O , how I love to see thee seed ! How lovely is thy Faith ? I 'le wash thy teeth in Milk , and be A Breast , a Feast , a Table , A Saviour to thy Faith and Thee : Fear not , for I am able . I 'le make thy Faith bring forth her fruits , As twinning Sheep their young : I 'le water both the stem and roots , And then I 'le freely come : I 'le come with joy and great delight , To see my Flocks a feeding , As Shepherds use ; I 'le bless my sight , To see my Sheep a breeding . Another to the Tune of Psal . 111. I 'Le praise my Church yet more , To what I said before ; I will repeat again , She shall not think that I , Cause she was faulty , fly , Or in Affection wane . Her teeth wherewith she chews Her food , that Life renews , Are washt and double set ; I am her spiritual food , I am her chiefest good : I 'le never her forget . Her grinders are her Faith , Her Faith a stomack hath , To feed upon my Flesh ; The washing is my blood : I 'le cleanse her in that flood , And so her soul refresh . Her Faith is fruitful too , More then false faith can do , Or barren doubts and fears : She eats my Flesh , and drinks My Blood , and no man thinks VVhat lovely Fruit she bears . CANT . VI. 7. As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples within thy locks . HYMN 106. HAve you not been , where you have seen The red and blushing Pomgranate , All overspread with Rosy-red , As natures bounty did create ? Her Face a Virgins blush adorns , Spread with all ruby bashfulness : A Face of Brass she highly scorns , But comeliness commends her dress . No crisp profanes her modest hair ; Content with Natures Ornament . She scorns to go profanely bare ; Or give to Pride a foolish vent . 'T is Nature , not base Art adorns her : No Hypocrite in Face or Heart ; A painted piece , Religion scorns her ; The Hypocrite and God must part . She blusheth , ' cause she cannot blush ; And fears , because she fears no more . Sense of her Sin doth always flush Her modest Face , and grieve her sore . My Soul ! this Consternation due , Becomes the holy Virgin-Bride ; Of that same bleeding Lover who For thy Salvation gladly dy'd Another to the Tune of Psal . 112. HAve you not been where you have seen , The red and blushing Pomegranate , All overspread with Rosy-red , As Natures bounty did create ? Thy Cheeks and Temples , O my Spouse , Modesty crowns , and so thy Brows : Thy Face a Virgin-blush adorns Spread with a ruby bashfulness ; A face of Brass thou highly scorns , But comeliness commends thy dress . Thy Guilt and Sin in which to blame , As with a Pencil paints thy shame . No Crisp prophanes thy modest hair ; Content with Natures Ornament ▪ Thou scorn'st to go prophanely bare ▪ Or give to pride a foolish vent : 'T is Nature , not base Art adorns thee : A painted piece , Religion scorns thee . My Soul this consternation due Becomes the holy Virgin-Bride , Of that same bleeding Lover who , For thy Salvation gladly dy'd . Bold steps in Sin , let me not trace ; But guilty , hide my blushing Face . CANT . VI. 8. There are threescore queens , and fourscore concubines , and virgins without number . Vers . 9 My dove , my undefiled is but one : she is the onely one of her mother , she is the choice one of her that bare her . HYMN 107. I Am no Bigamist , I have no Concubines , It 's onely one Church I admit ; One Child ; I have no Twins : My Church is more to me , And so she ever shall , Than all things in the world that be , Could I prevail at all . Could I but gain her Love , My heart would Captive be , And all my Pains , would be my gains , My Cross , my Melodie . Let there be Threescore Queens , And Fourscore Concubines , And Virgins numberless , that catch Fools in their snaring gins . My Loved is but one , That one is more than they : There is more worth in her alone : The Sun 't is makes it day , Away false Beauties all , My loved one , is One ; I love but one , and she shall call Her self , my Spouse alone . Another to the Tune of Psal . 113. MY Church is more to me than all The things that are , or ever shall : My heart 's a Captive to her Love , I 'me held in these desir'd chains , As recompenc'd for all my pains ; Could I but her Affections move . Let there be Threescore Queens in Thrones , And Fourscore Concubines at once , And Virgins numberless also , This one of mine outshines the Day , She is but one , yet more than they ; And more to me , as Angels know . Thus several Members in one Man , Epitomiz'd into a span , Concenter still to make him one : Thus Seas have many Rivers , yet All these in the same Ocean met , Make up but one Reception : So is my undefiled Love , Kingdoms her greater Members prove , And lesser Churches are her parts ; And every Saint a Member is : And they are many , yet all this Is but one Center-nest of hearts . CANT . VI. 9. The Daughters saw her , and blessed her ; yea , the queens and the concubines , and they praised her . HYMN 108. HOw lovely are my precious Saints In others Eyes , as well as mine ! Let Baalam speak : or else let those That never found her yet Divine ! 'T is easie to commend the way : No man can speak against the Truth ; The natural Conscience hath a ray : But happy he , the Chase pursu'th : 'T is hard to yield the heart : but why Should not the heart be yielded ? when The way of Saints , the best of ways , And they are sure the best of Men. And why not yield the heart ? when as The God of Saints , the best of Gods , And his Love is the best of Loves , And their Loves are the best , by odds ? Come all ye Angels of the Heavens , Come all the World , I 'le joyn with you : Come help me Love , my loved Prize : I love her ; do you Love her too . Let Queens admire their own desires : And Concubines their lustful fires : I 'le love my own , and onely Love , And nothing shall my Heart remove . Another to the Tune of Psal . 113. THe people saw her sparkling Rays , And did upon her Beauty gaze , And call'd my Church a blessed one : And Queeus and Concubines , whose hearts Had never felt what love imparts , Yet spake her commendation . Thus Baalam cry'd , How comely are Thy Tents , O Israel ? how fair ? Yet had no heart to yield the fort . 'T is easie to commend the way ; The natural conscience hath a ray : But O! 't is hard to yeild the heart . And why not yeild the heart now ? VVhen My Saints are sure the best of men ; And this their way the best of ways . Their God the best of gods , and when Their VVork the best of works , and then The best of Joys for endless days ? Let Queens admire their own desires , And Concubines their lustful fires , And Virgins dote on whom they please . I 'le love my own and only Love , And nothing shall my heart remove ; 'T is thine my Dove , here take the Keys . CANT . VI. 10. Who is she that looketh forth as the morning , fair as the moon , clear as the sun , terrible as an army with banners ? HYMN 109. WElcome the time , that brings the news , Of the Returning of the Jews : Whose Kings are all in Armour drest , And Sions foes are dispossest . A new created people , which Unlookt-for , shall the World enrich , And give my Foes a final fall , And make the Nations tremble all . This is the lovely Morning-light , That breaks out of a darksome Night ; And gradually advanceth forth , Like to the Sun 's resplendent worth . Heirs of the Promise , tho kept out ; Whose are the Covenants , no doubt , Tho long sequestred for their sin , And sad the case that they were in . Lo , now the Morning twilight dawns , And they come marching o're the lawns . Equip't for blood , like men of War ; Their sleeping Souls awak'ned are . O , what a glorious sight is this ! O what a heart-rejoicing ' t is ! That those that at a distance stood ; Return the purchase of my blood ! Another to the Tune of Psal . 113. NEws from the Confines of the East , There Kings in Armour all are drest , To make the Nations tremble all . A new created People , which Unlook for , shall the World enrich , And give my Foes a final fall . This is a lovely Morning light , That breaks out of a darksome Night , And gradually advanceth forth : First , as the Moon in dusky fair , Then as the Sun with light most clear : Who 's this ? and what her splendent worth ? Heirs of the Promise , tho keept out ; Whose are the Covenants , no doubt , Tho long sequestred for their sin . Lo , now the Morning twilight dawns , And they come marching o're the lawns , From out the Dungeons they were in . O! what a glorious sight is this ? O! what a heart-rejoicing 't is , That now the purchase of my Blood , In all my Saints compleated is , And Jews and Gentiles coalesce , That heretofore at distance stood ! CANT . VI. 11. I went down into the Garden of Nuts , to see the fruits of the Valley , and to see whether the Vine flourished , and the Pomegranates budded . HYMN 110. ROuse thee , O Israel , Child of the Valley , where , Put from the presence of the mate ; Sad thy rejectings were . O thou hast been to me , Garden of Nuts : so hard , So dry , such husky Shells ; from thee All comforts were debar'd . There was a Kernal , but There was no coming at it ; By unbelief thou wert , as if For thy destruction fatted . At last I heard in thee , A ratling of the bones , As if they would together come ; And real sighs and groans . I will go down and see Whether the Vines are good , And Grapes abound , and give us hopes , And the Pomegranates bud . If so , the work is done ; Thy Foes are put to flight : To Rocks and Mountains they shall run , For shelter , if they might . Another to the Tune of Psal . 124 ▪ O Israel , Child of the Valley , where No Tongue can tell , What 's thy afflicted state , Sequestred from The presence of thy Mate : Whose doom was just , For casting off my fear , And me so soon , Hence thy rejectings were . Thou 'st been to me , Garden of Nuts so hard , So dry , such Husks , Could'st not be opened : Kernel there was , But none upon it fed : Thy unbelief Did thy return retard ; And slighting me , Thy Prayer was not heard . At last , I hear A ratling of the Bones , As if they 'd come Together suddenly : Thy God will come , And see how all things lye ▪ Is it a thing That 's real ? Are there groans , And tears , and fruits , And supplications ? O , doth the Vine Flourish ! the Grapes abound , And give us hopes ! Do the Pomegrantes bud ? Hath God inspir'd Their hearts with real good ? Thy God will come , If these be in thee found , And lead thee forth ; VVith safety thee surround . CANT . VI. 12. Or ever I was aware , my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib . HYMN 111. SION awake ! the day is come ; Rouse as a Lion from thy den : Th' alarm sounds , that ne're did yet : My Spirit is up . Awaken then : You Angels get your Chariots ready , Prepare you for this long'd-for day : Hast , hast , come , I am drest already ; My Soul 's a wing , I cannot stay . Amminadibs Chariots drove fast ; But never drove so fast as mine : Amminadib was not in such hast , Nor flew so fast on wings of time . A willing God , a willing People , Both hot upon the same design ; They 'r both agreed ; there 's not a scruple , To interpose to while off time . Our Hearts are swifter than our Charets ; We 'l both conspire from our places : Thou here , and I from lofty Garrets , We 'l lift this World from of its basis . My Soul admire ! what hast he speeds , To fetch his Captives out of thrall ? With winged flames to help their needs , That pickled lay in Salt and Gall. Another to the Tune of Psal . 124. ROuse ! there is life , The long'd-for day is come : Th' Alarm sounds , Where it ne're sounded yet : Their hearts have ears , They 'r peirced to the quick . I 'le now go down , And do what 's to be done ; My heart 's on fire ▪ I 'le be their Light and Sun. You blessed Angels , get you Chariots ready : My Royal Spirit Is up , I must away : My Soul is all A-wing , I cannot stay : Amminadib , That drove so fast and steddy , Had not my hast : Come , I am drest already . A willing God , And willing People met , With resolutions stronger than the Charets ▪ They from below , I from my lofty Garrets ▪ O , what a great Day 's this , When in a net , This wicked World , My Foes , are all beset ! My Soul admire ! With what a hast he speeds , To fetch his Poor , His Captives out of thrall , This many years , Pickled in Salt and Gall ! He comes amain , And drives his fiery Steeds , Like winged flames , To help them at their needs . CANT . VI. 13. Return , return , O Shulamite ; return , return , that we may look upon thee : what will ye see in the Shulamite ? as it were the company of two armies . HYMN 112. REturn , return , O Shulamite ; Return , return to me : Thy God would bring thee back again ; Messiah waits for thee . 'T will be the Nations wonder , when The Pow'r of this Command Shall knit thy Sinews , giving Life And Vigor to thy hand . This voice , Return , shall rouse thee up From dead sleep thou art under , And Spirit thy benummed Limbs : 'T is like the voice of thunder . Wake , Judah , gird thy Harness on : Wake to the Battel now : Wake Israel , joyn thy forces with Thy sister Judahs bow . Two Armies , like two floods shall twist Their streams of fire together , And drink the sinful Nations up , And make their Glory wither . Proud Babel now shall tumble down , And all her Kings shall fall : Now Antichrist hath run her race : Shall be no more at all . Another to the Tune of Psal . 124. REturn , return , O Shulamite , return , Return thou Daughter of fair Sion hill : O , how I long ! My Soul is fainting till Thy God shall bring Thee back , and make thee burn With love to thy Messiah dear , and mourn . Return , return , And make the Nations wonder : Now shalt thou feel The Pow'r of this command : I 'le give it force , Thou shalt it not withstand : I 'le spirit that word With life , and make it thunder , And wake thee from That dead sleep thou art under . Wake Judah , wake , And girt thy Harness on : Wake Isra'l , wake , VVake to the Battel now : I 'le give the VVorld To thee , thy armies too , Shall drink the sinful Nations up , and come And build their Trophies Sions mount upon . Now is the time , Ten shall a thousand chace : Proud Babel now Shall tumble down before ye ▪ I 'le make her stoop , And all her Kings adore ye . Now Antichrist , Thou 'st run thy cursed race : Now Israel , Strike home , and take their place . CANT . VII . 1. How beautiful are thy feet with shoes , O princes daughter ! the joynts of thy thighs are like jewels , the work of the hands of a cunning workman . HYMN 113. COme Princes Daughter , come , Born of the Royal Blood : My Father is thy Father , whom To serve 's thy chiefest good . I see thy feet are shod With preparation for A sweet returning to thy God , Whom once thou didst abhor . How welcome are thy goings ? How beautiful thy feet ? These buds that blossom from thy doings , To me are dearly sweet . There 's , not a step thou takest , Towards thy Messiah dear ; But drops a Jewel to enrich The World both far and near . Jewels are not so rich , As steps that Retrograde : t is enough to raise a pitch Of Love I never had . Pride not thy self for this ; Let me have all the praise , Who to thy steps did strength confer , And did this Building raise . Another to the Tune of Psal . 125. COme Daughter , born of Royal blood , The King of Heav'n thy Father is ; He now awakes thee with a kiss : The day is come , so long withstood . Thou art to him so dear , Thou never needest fear . I see thy welcome feet are shod , With preparation from above : Thou that didst hate , begin'st to Love , A sweet returning to thy God. How welcome are thy goings ? How welcome are thy doings ? The buds that blossom from thy feet ; The very Bones that turn and move ; In th' hollow of thy Thighs I love : All these to me are rarely sweet . Jewels are not so rare , Nor can with them compare . Pride not thy self , give God the Praise , That is the great Artificer , Did to thy steps this strength confer , And did this hopeful Building raise . To him thou ow'st thy birth , And more than thou art worth . CANT . VII . 2. Thy navel is like a round Goblet , which wanteth not liquor : thy belly is like an heap of wheat , set about with lilies . HYMN 114. NOw I will tell the World the wonder : A barren Church grows fruitful ; she From whom in many hundred years , I had no Children born to me . Her Navel like a fountain fill'd , Held Goblets of infused Grace : Her pregnant Belly breeds a stock ; Like heaps of Wheat her number was . Nations are born at once ; they flock To her as Doves to Windows get . This is a Harvest to the Lord , Exceeding what he ere had yet . When thousands could Conversion date , From some one Sermons powerful word : This done in Sions infant-state , What will her manhood then afford ? Go Gentiles , go , your case condole , A thousand Sermons , scarce one Soul. Thy Teachers fish , and nothing catch ; They knock , but who lifts up the latch ? But I 'le unite you unto those , Shall ' crease your numbers as their own : They shall be drops where Water flows , Or grains in heaps of Wheat become . Another to the Tune of Psal . 125. NOw I will tell the World a wonder , The barren Church grows fruitful : she From whom for many hundred years , I had no Children born to me : But now she fertile grows ; Her numbers no man knows . Nations are born at once : they flock To her , as Doves to windows get : Her Pregnant Belly bears a stock , For numbers like the grains of Wheat : And these like Lilies white , Are pure in my sight . This is a Harvest to the Lord ; Beyond it self in Infant-state , When thousands could conversion date ▪ From some one Sermons powerful word . Tho since none such hath been ; I 'le make it so agen : You Gentiles go , your case condole : A thousand Sermons , scarce a Soul ▪ Thy Teachers fish , and nothing catch : They knock , but none lifts up the Latch : I 'le fertile mercies broach And take away Reproach . I will unite you unto those , Shall ' crease your numbers as their own : They shall like drops , where water flows , Or grains in heaps of Wheat become ; A Joyful day to Sion : A Pillow soft to lye on . CANT . VII . 3. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins . HYMN 115. THy breasts fhall give their milk to Kings And Princes be nurs'd up by thee : Tyrants ! there shall be no such things : By Thine shall Kingdoms ruled be . Thy Nobles shall the Scepters sway , The Crownsand Thronesshall all be theirs . Those that will not thy feed obey , Shall rue the day in Blood and Tears : When I the Tyrants cause to cease This shall produce a world of peace : No more shall men for fearing God Tast the Red-Dragons smarting Rod : Salvation shall for Bulwarks stand , And Walls of Fire about thy place : And God at all times near at hand , Shall safe ▪ Protect thy blessed race . Thy Breasts shall nurse up Rulers ; so Pastors according to my heart Shall be so well inspir'd and fit , That Souls they shall by shoals convert : And with this holy Seed thou shalt All under the broad Heavens fill : Thou shalt Jehovah's praise exalt , And live according to his will. Another to the Tune of Psal . 125. THy Breasts shall give their milk to Kings , And Princes be nurs'd up by thee : Tyrants ! there shall be no such things : By thine shall Kingdoms ruled be . O what a bliss is this , The World at quiet is . Thy Nobles shall thy Scepters sway , The Crowns and Thrones shall all be theirs ; Those that will not thy Seed obey Shall rue the day in blood and tears . O what a bliss is this ! The world at quiet is . When I the Tyrants cause to cease This shall produce a world of peace : No more shall men for serving God , Tast the Red-Dragons smarting Rod : O what a bliss is this ! The world at quiet is . Thy Breasts shall nurse up Rulers : so Pastors according to my heart , Shall be so well inspir'd , and fit , That Souls they shall by Shoals Convert : O what a bliss is this ! The world at quiet is . And with this holy Seed thou shalt , All under the broad Heavens fill , Thou shalt Jehovah's praise exalt , And live according to his will : O what a bliss is this ? The world at quiet is . CANT . VII . 4. Thy Neck is as a Tower of Ivory . HYMN 116. THy Neck , O Sion , is a Tower Of whitest Ivory : No more to bear the pinching Yoak Of force and Tyranny . The Irons of Unscripture modes , And auk Imposed Forms , No more shall gall thy flesh , and Soul , I 'le free thee from those storms . The Idols now betake themselves To Clifts of craggy Rocks . Thy God is risen : light is come : And spight 's a Paradox . Arise and shine : O Sion dress thee : It is a pleasant day , And I thy God am come to bless thee : Send all thy fears away . O let thy Stately Neck bear up : Thy Head advance it higher ; Now all thy Yoaks are burst and burnt , Put on thy best Attire . Admit my easie Yoak , and think Thy self a free-man there Chain'd to my Laws , my Saints and me Thy Neck receives no scar : CANT . VII . 4. — Thine Eyes are like the fish-pools in Heshbon , by the gate of Bath-rabbim : — HYMN 117. WAter thy Plants , Jerusalem : Salvation's at the door . Unseal thy latent Fountains : weep Till thou canst weep no more . Time was , when as of sence bereft Thou couldst not broach a tear , But now the hardned Rocks are cleft , And waters gushing there . Thine Eyes like Hesbons Fish-pools stand VVithin Beth-rabbins gate , That moistens the adjacent Land : And doth it fruitful make : I love to see that pierced heart , That pierced me and mine : The tears that wash my wounded feet , To me are drops of VVine . Thou 'st wept enough : now weep no more , But go rejoycing on : I 'le banish all thy fears and cares , And bid them all be gone . Repentance breaks two hearts at once ; The Sinners heart , and mine : Tho Sin be great , the Mercy-seat Shall cure that heart of thine . CANT . VII . 4. — Thy nose is as the tower of Labanon , which louketh toward Damascus . HYMN 118. O How I joy to see , Damascus brought to me : The persecuting Nations all , With Sion shall agree . To see fair Lebanon , Her stately Tower look , Towards her great foe Damascus , and In peace each other brook . Damascus , and the Mount , Shall reach their hands , and joyn ; The Lion with the Lamb lye down , In this great day of thine . Thy Nose shall smell a sweet Perfume from Pagan Lands , And breath a welcome Air , to greet Their reconciled bands . And would the Churches now , Their breaches seek to close : I 'de hast and come , and quickly turn The heart of all their foes . Would Saints unite yet more , And all their fires cover : I 'de make their Enemies yield themselves ▪ And bring Damascus over . CANT . VII . 5. Thine head upon thee is like Carmel , and the hair of thine head like purple — HYMN 119. THy head like Carmels crimson mount , Repleat with light , as that with flowers : Erects it self , and doth surmount Above all human earthly Powers . As Carmel did o're-top the Hills , And far transcend their excellence : The Glory of my Sion fills The World , and takes pre ▪ eminence . The mountain of the Lords great house , Above the tops of Mountains rose : 'T is now fulfill'd : O Carmel rouse , Exalt thy self above thy foes . Lift up thy head Jerusalem , I 've made thee Lord of all the Earth : Thy Scepter 's in the hand of them That are men of Renown and Worth. And as thy hair upon thy head , In numerous Unites overspread : So shall thy Purple Judges fill With righteous Laws , the World half dead . For Muninment and Ornament , Hair is the Glory of the Head : So shall thy wholsome Edicts spread , And Justice be in Triumph led . Another to the Tune of Psal . 148. LIke Carmels crimson mount , Such is my Church to me : My Sion , I account Above all things that be : I will her praise Above the Moon , The Stars , the Sun , Her honour raise ▪ Thy head doth raise its top , Above all humane Powers : Their Boughs I 'le have thee lop , And pull down all their Towers : And then shall we Rejoyce to see , Fair Carmel be , In high degree . The Mountain of the house Of God , shall top the hills : And Sion shall advance Her rod against their wills . Great Sion shall By force of Arms , And milder charms , O're top them all . Thy Purple Judges shall Like hair in Unites spread : Send forth such Laws that all The People shall be glad : Then shall they praise , And lively sing : For Sions King , Their Voices raise . CANT . VII . 5. — Thy king is held in the galleries . HYMN 120. AWake , O Sion : rise and shine , Put thy best Garment on : Tho all the World ' gainst thee combine , Thy King comes marching on . Lift up thine Eyes , behold those Clouds , Those lofty Galleries : There he Erects his Throne , and makes His Glory fill the Skies . There shalt thou look on him , whose heart Was pierced by thy sin , And thou shalt mourn to see those wounds , And yet rejoyce therein . There never was so great a day ; Sion thy King doth come , And in these Galleries makes a stay , Till thy great Work be done . O rend the Heavens , Lord , and come Thou down for Sions cause : Deliver thine from Sin and Rome , And all her Popish Laws : And make thy People once agen , The great Hosannah sing , And Spirit every sort of men , To Worship Sions King. Another to the Tune of Psal . 148. O Sion ! rise and shine , Put thy best Garments on , Tho all the World combine ; Thy King comes marching on : Behold those Clouds , His Person lies In Galleries , And there he shrouds . Now shalt thou on him look , Was peirced by thy Sin , When thee he once forsook , Cause thou forsookest him : Now shalt thou mourn , And yet rejoice , With Heart and Voice , Thy God is come . There never was a day , So welcome to the Saints , As when he comes away , To make up all their wants . O rend the Skies : O come away , Make no delay , Poor Sion cries . Hosanna then we 'l sing , And Hallelujah too ▪ We 'l Worshiship Sions King , We 'l praise him all anew . In Heaven ! so Thy Kingdom come , Thy will be done , In Earth below . CANT . VII . 6. How fair and how pleasant art thou , O love , for delights ! HYMN 121. I Don't repent my coming down ; These Galleries are to me a Throne : I 'le get me here a new renown : Into new Heavens I am come . Ye blessed Angels , gird your selves , To wait my royal motions thither : Your trumpets sound & shake the ground ; Let you and I rejoice together . I 'le see my new created Bride , I 'le let out all my hearts delight , I 'le put down all her sinful Pride , And Pride my self in her blest sight . And , O! how fair , how pleasant are Those sweet delights I now shall take ! New Earth , new Heavens , all things new , These shall new Loves in me create . Come then , beloved Sion , come , Be not afraid ; no distance can Foment a jealousie : There 's none Shall love thee more than God and Man. O , let thy thirsty craving heart , Imbibe and drink me fully down : My Graces shall their good impart , My merits give thee great renown . Another to the Tune of Psal . 148. I Come , and don 't repent , Into another Throne : To Sion am I sent , To her I love alone : No labour lost , To come and see , Beloved she , My heart loves most . Ye blessed Angels come , And wait my Royal motions : 'T will be your honour ; come , ' I will give you new promotions . You Angels blow , Your trumpets sound , For I have found , A Heav'n below . How fair and pleasant are Those sweet delights I take ? New Heav'ns ! new Earth ! and those New Loves in me create . Let me prefer , My long'd for Bride , And let me Pride My self in her . O , let thy thirsty heart , My Soul ! imbibe him down , And never from him part : 'T is his and thy renown . There 's none that can , E're be so dear , Or come so near , As God and Man. CANT . VII . 7. This thy stature is like to a Palm-tree , and thy breasts to clusters of the Grapes . HYMN 122. SION , thou art a Palm , Under great pressures growing : Thy branches , the great Ensigns are Of Victory overflowing . The more the weights were hung On every tender Bough : The straighter , upright , every branch Doth towards Heaven grow . Ride on triumphantly , And make thy Charets fly : Thy Martial word is Victory ; Ride on victoriously . The Branches of the Palm , Shall Crown thy glorious Head : Thou shalt enjoy a blessed calm , Thine Enemies all are fled . Thy well-grown Breasts are full , As clusters fill'd with Wine , To nourish all thy Children small , And make them all Divine . Now Sion bless thy King , Whose conduct doth the work , And down shall all his En'mies bring , The Devil , Pope and Turk . Another to the Tune of Psal . 147. SION , thou art a Palm , Under great Pressures growing , Whose Branches , Ensigns are , Of Victory overflowing . Triumphantly , Thy Charet shall Ride over all Victoriously . The more their weights were hung On every tender Bough : The straighter , upright , thou Dost toward Heaven grow . Thy Martial-word Is Victory : Thy Foes shall fly Before thy Sword. The Branches of the Palm , Shall Crown thy glorious Head ▪ Thou shalt enjoy a calm : Thine Enemies all are fled . Then shalt thou say , To Sions King , I ow this thing , To get the day . Thy welcome Breasts are full , As clusters fill'd with Wine , To nourish great and small , And make them all Divine . Now march , O Sion , The Praises sing , Of thy great King , And Judah's Lion. CANT . VII . 8. I said , I will go up to the Palm-tree , I will take hold of the Boughs thereof : new also thy Breasts shall be as Clusters of the Vine , and the smell of thy nose like Apples . HYMN 123. IT is a pleasant sight to see , The Nations flocking in : As Doves unto the Windows flee , Repenting of their sin ▪ I will take hold of thee , saith one ▪ O let me be thy Brother ! Give me one Closter of thy Grapes , One Apple , saith another . Beat up thy Drums for Volunteers , Set up thy Standart , Sion ! To bring the Kings , and all their Peers , To worship Judah's Lion. Thy Enemies now shall bow to thee , And suck thy Breasts their fill , And shall be satisfi'd to see Fair Sions raised Hill. O Isra'l , bud and blossom out , And fill the World with fruit : Let the Expence be what it will , Thy God will thee recruit . Thy smell is sweet to all that come , Their smell is sweet to thee : All Nostrils fill'd with sweet perfume ! O blessed day to see . Another to the Tune of Psal . 147. NOW they begin to love , That hated thee before : The Kings and Pow'rs above , Cringing shall thee adore : O blessed sight ! To see them flock , With all their stock , To Sions light . Give me a Bough , saith one , O let me be thy Brother : Give me one Cluster more ; One Apple , saith another . Beat up the Drums , Thy Noble Peers , Are Volunteers , Where Sion comes . Thine Enemies now shall bow , And suck thy Breasts their fill : And satisfied now , Shall see thy raised Hill : Then shall they sing , Halelujah , Halelujah , To Sions King. Blossom , O Israel , And fill the World with fruit : Come , what Expences will , I 'le always thee recruit : Come sing this Song , The day is ours , Against the Powers That rag'd so long . CANT . VII . 9. And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine , for my beloved , that goeth down sweetly , causing the lips of those that are asleep , to speak . HYMN 124. A Wake , O Sion ! ope thy Mouth , Wide●s thou canst , for I will still it ▪ Come and drink down my Spirit of Truth ; Upon thy heart I 'le largely spill it . I 'le pour it out as sweetest Wine , As once of old I did at first : Brimful I 'le fill that heart of thine , Come drink it down , and slake thy thirst . These liberal draughts shall make thee speak , And utter such transcendent matter , Into the Mouths of men asleep , That they shall wake , and they shall utter . Thy dead shall live , and those that lay Securely sleeping in their sin , Shall now awake , and weep away , The woful case that they were in . No more shall men complain their hearts , Like strait neckt Vessels take in little : They cannot speak what Grace imparts , And for a great sum yield a little . Enlargements now shall speak the praise Of Sions King , where e're we come : And those that had not words to say , For Christ before , now praise him home . Another to the Tune of Psal . 113. AWake , O Sion ! ope thy Mouth , Come and drink down my Spirit of Truth . Open thy Mouth wide as thou canst : Let it crave what it can , I 'le fill it : My Holy Spirit , I 'le largly spill it , And fully answer all thy wants . I 'le pour my Spirit out like Wine ; To th' brim , I 'le fill that heart of thine , As once of old , I did at first : These liberal Draughts shall make theespeak , And pow'rfully thy Silence break : Come drink it down , and slake thy thirst . Now shalt thou my high Praises utter , And out with such transcendent matter , Into the Mouths of men asleep , That they shall wake . Thy dead shall live , And joyning with thee , Praises give To God and me ; Thanksgivings keep . No more shall men complain their hearts : Can 't utter what free Grace imparts . Like strait neckt Vessels take in little : Enlargements shall be common now , And fill your Souls you know not how , And make you full that have been fickle . CANT . VII . 10. I am my beloveds , and his desire is towards me . HYMN 125. YOu glorious Angels , sound your Trumps , This is the Wedding ▪ day : King Jesus and his Saints agree , Loves to each other pay . Give me thy heart , saith he , my Son , And for that Heart of thine ; Lest thou shouldst want a heart , I 'le come , And freely give thee mine . Now view the Smiles that Crown the Face Of this exalted Bride ▪ That now 's about to take her place By her Beloveds side . Renowned Jesus ! Art thou mine ? Since 't is thine own desire : To thee my self I now resign : My heart is all on fire , With flames of Love , to thee my King ; Thou mine , and I am thine : 'T is Heav'n to me , thy Face to see ; I 'm thine , and thou art mine . May this days love more stable prove , Than Hills and Mountains strong ; Let Jesus Christ the subject be , Of my Eternal Song . CANT . VII . 11. Come , my beloved , let us go forth into the Fields : let us lodg in the Villages . HYMN 126. THE Marriage being agreed upon , Between the Bridegroom and the Bride ▪ When will this blessed Jesus come , To tye the knot that must be ty'd ? Wilt thou a publick Wedding make ? Inviting all the World unto it ? No , no! retirement we 'l take ; But Angels , none shall see us do it . There are such persons , and such places , From the Worlds eye obscurely hid , And there will we exchange Embraces , There , there will we be Married . 'T is secret Paths , and private Walks , Known to none else but thee and me : 'T is Closet-breathings , unheard talks ▪ That knits the knot 'tween me and thee . I would not sell my secret Pray'rs For more than thousand pounds a year : I would not lose my stolen tears , For all the VVorlds rich treasure there . VVhen I lockt up from the VVorlds eye , Am all alone in Meditation : Be sure my Christ is standing by , And most at large in Revelation . CANT . VII . 12. Let us get up early to the Vineyards , let us see if the Vine flourish , whether the tender Grapes appear , and the Promegranates bud forth : there will I give thee my loves . HYMN . 127. THE Vines and tender Grapes , And the Pomegranate buds : The new-born off-spring , that are weak , But shortly will be studs , In sight of these , my dear , I 'le shew my love to thee : As Children draw the Husbands love , Thus mine is drawn from me . Come see , and be the Bride Of this most glorious Groom , And lay your matters all aside , And to the Wedding come . You new converted are As much concern'd as I : Flourish and dress your selves , prepare , The Bridegroom draweth nigh . Take us , for we are thine , And are our own no longer : We wish our selves were more Divine , We wish our Love 's were stronger . Thine only Will we be , And thine Eternally : O Rule , and Teach , and Govern us , As well as save , pray I. CANT . VII . 13. The Mandrakes give a smell , and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits , new and old , which I have laid up for thee , O my beloved . HYMN 128. O What a joyful Spring is this ! The Mandrakes give their smell : That lay all Winter buried in The Earth , as in their cell . Sion was dead , but is alive ; The sweet perfumes of Grace Begin to bless the World , and yield Their sents in every place . The Converts , both the new and old , Are full of pleasant Fruit : And all laid up for thee , my Love , To correspond thy suit . Thus do the streams their tribute pay To Seas from whence they spring : Now shall both Males and Females say , Our Fruit to thee we bring . How rich is Sions King that day , When all his Saints shall woo him , And bring their Treasures , and shall pay Themselves attribute to him ? What joy , when but a single Soul Is Married unto Jesus ! But O , what Joy , when Nations shall ! O , how that sight will please us ! CANT . VIII . 1. O that thou wert as my brother that suckt the breast of my mother , then should I find thee without , I would kiss thee , yet I should not be despised . HYMN 129. WErt thou my brother , Lord , I could believe thy love : Or hadst thou suckt my Mothers Breasts , I could my fears remove : And think , 't were not below Thy self to make me thine : Alas ! thou art too far above This low estate of mine . Thou art a glorious Prince , The Angels thee adore : And I the vilest worm that lives : This makes the wonder more . VVilt thou be mean like me , And be with Flesh possest , And fellow-man , and brother be , And suck thy Mothers Breast ? VVell then ! I 'le kiss thee now ; No more thy distance dread ; Thus vail'd in Flesh , I 'le dare approach , And own thee as my Head. Flesh of my Flesh , and Bone ; O Christ , I see thou art : Now I 'le converse with thee alone , And thou shalt have my heart . CANT . VIII . 2. I would lead thee , and bring thee into my Mothers house , who would instruct me : I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my Pomegranate . HYMN 130. MY Christ ! how welcome would I make thee , Wouldst thou but visit where I dwell ! I and my Mother would embrace thee , And Joy to see thee at our Cell . My Mother would instruct me where Her best and choicest Junkets lye : And I would entertain thee there , As blest in thy sweet company . I 'de bring thee out my spiced Wine , Made of the Juice of Pomegranate , And thou shalt have this heart of mine , Inflam'd with Love at highest rate . I will thee feast with all my best , And strive attendance due to give : Thou shall have me , and all the rest , Thy own , so long as we shall live . I will end eavour , such a life Shall pleasing be to thy define , And speak thy Praise , till it shall raise VVithin my heart an holy fire . Only he pleas'd to come , and lend , Assisting Grace to this endeavour : If I by Ague-fits grow cold , Turn them into a burning Fever . CANT . VIII . 3. His left hand should be under my head , and his right hand should embrace me . HYMN 131. MY work is great : O stay my head ; Infuse that Wisdom from above : And let thy strength my weakness wed , And with infirm'ty fall in Love. My head is sick , my heart is faint ; As overpow'rd with my task : I thee with all my Grief acquant , And thy Assistance humbly ask . The left and right hand of thy Pow'r ; Outward and inward help must give : Thy arms about me in this hour , Embrace me must , and make me live . O , my Redeemer , with thy Arms Refresh the heart of fainting me . Let me experience thy Love-charms , Till I am more in love with thee . Then shall my Charets run a pace ; No rubs shall hinder their swift motion : The Wheels anointed with thy Grace , As Ships ride fast upon the Ocean . Thus the warm hand on aking head , And circling Arms about the loyns , Revives a man that lies half dead , And under difficulties pines . CANT . VIII . 4. I charge you , O daughters of Jerusalem , that ye stir not up , nor awake my love until he please . HYMN 132. MY King is gone to rest , And resteth in his Love : Hath plac'd himself where he thought best , And never will remove . What pity then it is , For us to break his ease ; Or give the least disturbances , Or wake him till he please . He only knows his time ; He knows his time to rise : Then he 'l awake and progress make To do his enterprize . Delays are dangerous To us , but not to him : He never stays , but his delays Have his Advances been . He cannot come too soon ; He never stay'd too long : To his bedside your pray'rs may come , With other Saints along . With these you may awake him , When seeming fast asleep : But if you shall by Sin forsake him , O , this will wound him deep . CANT . VIII . 5. Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness leaning upon her beloved — HYMN 133. UPon the Wings of fame it flies , To all the Nations round : That God hath op'ned Judah's eyes , And made his Grace abound . Who 's this ! and what a thing is this , That Jew's of rude Behaviour ; Should at the last Messiah tast , And own him for their Saviour ? This news awakens all the Earth , Sounds like the Voice of Thunder : Never was such a Sight before , Never was such a Wonder . What Judah turn ! What Israel , That kill'd the Living Lord , And basely nail'd him to the Cross ; The man which they abhorr'd ! What they return ! . and all at once ! They and their Children too ! And shall his imprecated Blood , A healing Vertue shew ! O blessed day ! Jehovah raise My heart to praise thee more : Let all the Lands now clap their hands , And Sions King adore . CANT . VIII ▪ 5. — I raised thee up under the Apple-tree : there thy Mother brought thee forth , there she brought thee forth that bare thee . HYMN 134. I Saw thee in thy Fathers Loyns , And in thy Mothers Womb : When Eve , under the Apple-tree , Was working out thy Doom . I rais'd thee then , when thee I saw , Condemn'd by Adams fall : Didst eat the Fruit , as well as he , The Father of us all . The VVoman and her Seed was rais'd , By th' VVoman and her Seed : Thus the same hand that gave the wound , Did help in time of need . I saw thee , when I dy'd upon The cursed Tree , the Cross , All in thy Blood , as well as I , VVith all thy Sins in gross . I rais'd thee then ; my Blood cry'd , Live , To those that made me dye : I built thee up a Tow'r of Love , Upon Mount Calvary . Keep humble then , O Sion , and Think of thy Pedigree : Tho I exalt thee thus , don't thou Exalt thy self , but me . CANT . VIII . 6. Set me as a seal upon thine heart , as a seal upon thine arm — HYMN 135. MY God! since I am listed under So great a General as thee : Let me not fail to break in sunder , The En'mies Force , what ere it be . Set me a Seal upon thy heart , As did the great High-Priest of old : On Judgment 's Brest-plate grave by art , The Names of Israels Sons enroll'd . O let me lay my careful head , Upon that Pillow of thy Love : And feel my self so kindly led , Into thy very heart , my Dove . Set me a Seal upon thy Arm ; Upon thy mighty Shoulders bear me ; And guide me thorow , that no harm , Or Cowardise may ever fear me . Let it be now , as when of old , I on thy Palms engraven was : VVhen thou didst all my walls uphold ; Again Lord , let it come to pass . Then will I ope the Silent doors , And make all Creatures give thee praise : The slumbring Earth , the Seas that roars , Shall each contend thy Name to raise . CANT . VIII . 6. — For Love is as strong as death , jealousie is as cruel as the grave — HYMN 136. BOast of thy Triumphs , Death ! O Time advance thy VVings ! Love hath as many killing Darts As thou hast deadly Stings . When Christ shall Arm his Love , And gird his Bowels on : His En'mies shall before him fall , And Death it self undone . Observe the World , and see What conquests Death hath made : How many Kings ▪ and such like things , In silent graves hath laid . Such Conquests in his Strength , King Jesus will obtain : His Jealousie will rage at length , And he alone shall reign . No strength shall stand before him , No Ammunition Force . He 'l Slay the Kings that wont adore him , And Love shall have its course . Then shall we be at rest , And Peace on every side : Victorious Love will have it so , When he asserts his Bride . CANT . VIII . 6. — The coals thereof are coals of fire , which hath a most vehement flame . HYMN 137. HAve you not seen the Desolations That veh'ment Flames have made ; What multitudes of Habitations , In dust and rubbish laid ? How fiercely without all respect , To things or persons had , It quickly works its sad effect , And makes mens cases bad ? Thus will the just revenging God , Before him send a Fire ; And with a smarting burning Rod , Our blood on them require . Now Fire for Fire , Blood for Blood , City for City , shall Be fir'd down ; he 'l quench his Wrath In Blood , and make them fall . Now Babels Towers all shall fall , And all her Props come down : The bitter Cup she must drink up , And off must come her Crown . My God make hast , why stay thy Wheels ! Why stay thy Charets , Lord ! O , why so long , before thou come , According to thy word ? CANT . VIII . 7. Many waters cannot quench Love , neither can the floods drown it — HYMN 138. WAters that quench the fire , can't Put out the Fire of Love : Immortal Love nor drowns , nor dies ; Its life is from above . His Love to his , will make its way , To rid us out of thrall : There 's none shall stand at that great day , That don't before him fall . Be wise ye Princes of the Earth , And kiss the Son of God : His Anger fumes , who 's he presumes To urge his Iron-rod ? His Love shall bring a flood of Fire , Like Noahs Water-flood : Topping the Mountains in his Ire , That cannot be withstood . My Soul admires the Power of Love : Love 's all , for Gods is Love : His Foes , as soon may quench the Sun , As this vast Love remove . If one small spark of Love in us , Can live in Waters deep : Much more his glorified Love , Alive in Seas will keep . CANT . VIII . 7. — If a man would give all the substance of his house for love , it would utterly be condemned . HYMN 139. WHat is the price of Love , my King ? What shall I give thee for a spark ? Will all my substance buy the thing ? Away fond Worm ! thou' rt in the dark . Love never yet was bought or sold ; Come all ye hungry thirsty Souls ; The price of Love is yet untold : Come without money , fill your bouls . ▪ T is a mistake , to think that Christ , Did ever purchase Fathers Love : 'T was Love , by which he did subsist ; 'T was Love that brought him from above . Tho ' mongst the Sons of men , their Love Is bought and sold for worldly pelf : Yet never did thy God above Erect a Market for himself . His love is free : come Souls , and see How undeserv'd his kindness is , While Sinners , while ungodly , we Are call'd to take this Love of his . Nor can the Sinner at his need ; Purchase this Love with all his Gold : Free Love , free Grace , is all we read : Christs Love is neither bought nor sold . CANT . VIII . 8. We have a little sister , and she hath no breasts : what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for ? HYMN 140. WE have a little Sister , Lord , That hath no Breasts , as yet ; There is no place for means of Grace : O do not her forget . Thy Servants are greatly athirst That joyful day to see : When thou the Cords and Yokes shall burst ▪ From her as well as we . What shall we do for those that lye In Natures dungeon still ▪ When wilt thou speak for them that dye For want of Sions Hill ! Those that have neither Milk nor Breasts , That still lye weltring in The Blood of uncoverted State : O call them out of Sin. Our Sister hath a precious Soul To save , as well as we . Would all the World were thine , and not A Rebel we could see . O say thou to our Sister , Come , Leave Babel to her flames : Let her not perish in the doom Of Babels wretched names . CANT . VIII . 9. If she be a wall , we will build upon her a palace of silver : and if she be a door , we will inclose her with boards of Cedar . HYMN 141. HOw welcome were that blessed news , To the whole Nation of the Jews , When Elect Sisters shall return ? When new-born hope , and panting strength , Tho but a little , comes at length , And hard and soft together mourn ? We 'l blow the blossoms : not a spark Or glance that twinkles in the dark , But shall be rais'd into a flame . Of every Wall , we 'l make a Tower , Of every twig we 'l make a Bower , And turn a drop into a rain . A silver Palace we will make her , In the day we undertake her ; With Cedar-boards we will enclose her , And all the riches Love can find In her vast Stores , shall be resign'd , To make her happy in the closure . Lord something give to work upon ( Creation is thy work alone ) And gladly we 'l to them repair That lie in darkness ; great and small , With Deaths black shadow cover'd all , And make them teem that barren were . Come then , you Nations , all you Kings , And Nobles , flock to Sions wings ; There 's healing for your wounded hearts . And let the Wealth of Sions King , And so your own advantage , bring Your Souls to him from Satans darts . CANT . VIII . 10. I am a wall — HYMN 142. I Was a heap of Dust And Rubbish , quite forsaken : Disparkt and into Forest turn'd , No care of me was taken . Help me to bless the Lord ; Ye Idol-Nations come : Let 's Praise the Lord with joynt accord , And bless his Name alone . I found his favour when My case was worse than yours : I was a prize in his fair eyes , Such help free Grace procures . And now I am a Wall ; Whose strength shall ever stand : The matter of it is Free-stone ; Laid by Free-Grace's hand . The Cement is the Blood Was shed upon the Cross : The height of it o'retops the Skies . Will you this Love ingross ? Tho you have cruel been , Both to the Saints and me : Yet if this call shall fetch you in , I 'le be a Wall , you see . CANT . VIII . 10. — And my Breasts are Towers — HYMN 143. ALL Praises bring to Sions King : See what I was , and what I am : My hills of Flesh could not refresh The thirst of one poor sucking Lamb. Children I had , but ill brought up ; No Sustenance within their pow'rs : They always drank of Moses Cup ; But now through Grace , my Breasts are Tow'rs . And thus ye Gentiles , 't was with you , When almost all your pipes were cut : Your Teachers into Corners drew , Your Pastors into Prisons put . Your Breasts were cut , that should have given Their Milk to them the Beasts devours : But thanks be to the God of Heaven , That now through Grace ▪ your Breasts are Tow'rs . Let Lambs of Christ now frisk and dance , And sport themselves on Sion hill : For God will now their heads advance ; Their Mothers Breasts with fatness fill . And tho our milky Breasts have been , Like Fountains stopt by higher Pow'rs . ( It was our Glory , but their Sin ) ; But now through Grace , our Breasts are Tow'rs . CANT . VIII . 10. — Then was I in his eyes as one that found favour . HYMN 144. NOw doth my thankful heart rebound , And fain would raise me higher , To bless the favour that I found . O draw me to thee nigher . Help me to strip me of my self ; Into some Cherub turn : To sound the Praise of thee , my King : O make the Fire burn , And heat my Heart red-hot with Love : Such favour I have found . Would I were nothing else but Love , Thy Praises to resound . How happy are the Souls in Bliss , The Spirits perfect made ; Whose everlasting work it is , To love thee , is their trade ! Who have no body of their own , No body else to hinder ▪ O that I could but praise thee here , As they can Praise thee yonder . The favour of thy Heart and Eyes So unexpected was ▪ 'T is Love of all things that I prize ; So great a worth it hath . CANT . VIII . 11. Solomon had a Vineyard at Baal-hamon : he let out the Vineyard unto Keepers ; every one for the fruit thereof , was to bring a thousand pieces of silver . HYMN 145. SION , my Vineyard , is become As desolate as once she was : And there are Nations in her Womb , Like Pregnant Vines that all surpass . I 'le Water her both Night and Day , And sweetly force her coming Fruit : Let the Winds bluster as they may . I GOD , have said it , and I 'le do it . King Solomon had a Vineyard great , In Baal-hamon it was plac'd : It was a sweet and lovely Seat ; Greatly admired and embrac'd . 'T was fet with Vines and other Trees , And richly stor'd in every place : But not like mine : my Plants are Souls , And Stocks of an immortal race . He farm d his Vineyard out to those , A thousand Silverlings that gave : But of the Vineyard I have chose , My self alone the dressing have . I made my Plants , so did not he ; I set them all with my own hand . Those that were dead , restored be , And flourish all at my command . CANT . VIII . 12. My Vineyard which is mine , is before me : thou , O Solomon , must have a thousand , and those that keep the fruit thereof , two hundred . HYMN 146. KIng Solomons Tenants shar'd the Fruit ; They profit had , as well as he , Or else they never had come to 't : Two hundred silverlings their Fee. My Saints , I must have all your Fruit ; Your Pains and Labours all is mine : Your Glory bring to Sions King ; 'T is he that waters every Vine . Now shall you bear your Fruit to me , That once the stranger had devour'd : Now shall you be like fruitful trees , And Apples in my bosom pour'd . Now shall your Fruit be pleasant , and Full grown and Mellow for my tast . Instead of rent to me in hand , I 'e pay you all the Rent at last . You serve your selves in serving me ; You love your selves when me you love : If here you not rewarded be ; You shall receiv't in Heaven above . And tho King Solomon could not graft Into himself to raise his Fruit : You into me shall grafted be : Take it upon my word , I 'le do 't . CANT . VIII . 13. Thou that dwellest in the Gardens , the companions hearken to thy voice — HYMN 147. MY work is done , I must be gone ; My business calls away , To wait upon my Fathers Throne : Farewel , I must not stay . Mean while , I 'le leave my heart behind , And often to thee send : And spread thy case , at Throne of Grace , And strongly thee defend . I 've plac'd thy Habitation in The Gardens of delight . No more the Boar , as was before , Thy tender Plants shall bite . Amidst these fruitful Plants shall be Thy work and dwelling placed : And with incouragement thou shalt see Each Border sweetly graced . In these inclosed Gardens , let The Commons hear thy voice , And those that have not listned yet , To hear thee , shall rejoyce . Then tell them plainly all the thing : Bid them accept their bliss : When news you bring of Sions King , They will be yours and his . CANT . VIII . 13. — Cause me to hear it . HYMN 148. O Let me hear you Preach to those That would Companions be In Sufferings and in Priviledg : O bring them unto me . Call nothing common and unclean : The greatest Sinner may By precious blood be turn'd to good ; Their sins be done away : But let me hear you speak to me . No whispering Trumpet shall Convey the Voice : my Spirit shall be Your Mouth , your Post , your All. I must be gone , you know a while , As was ordain'd of old : To get things ready for the day That was so long foretold . But in this distance let me hear From thee , my dearest Love. Acquaint me but with what thou want'st , I 'le send it from above . My full supplies shall feast thine Eyes , And make thy heart rejoyce : I only move to thee my love , Let me but hear thy Voice . CANT . VIII 14. Make hast , my beloved , and be thou like to a roe , or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices . HYMN 149. MY God , make all the hast thou canst ; Why do the hours move so slow ? Why stops the glass that turned was So many hundred years ago ? Is wakeful time fall'n fast asleep ? Why do the wheels of Motion stay ? Why doth my God in Prison keep That blest and long'd-for glorious day . Lovers will hasten all they can : Thou lovest ; then , why dost thou stay ? What Love and linger ? O make hast : Lord if thou lov'st me , come away . 'T is not the pleasures of the World ; Nor joys , nor toys , that can delight me . The blessed Angels lovely Faces , Without thy Presence would affright me . The glorious Joys of Heav'n it self , Are but a Map of thee , my King : Jesus in Shorthand Characters : A notion , but thy self the thing . Come then , my All , my chiefest good ; When shall blest Heavens so befriend us , To spare thee down ? O when shall they A sight of our dear JESUS send us . Is it not midnight , Lord , and past ! When shall we hear the Clocks strike One ? One Faith , One Way , One Sight , One Tast , One Lawgiver , One Lord , One Throne ? One Truth , One Gospel , One Consent , One God , One Jesus only known ? Oh that this midnight-hour were spent , That all might coalesce in One. CANT . VIII . 14. — Be thou like to a roe , or to a young hart upon a the mountains of spices . HYMN 150. NEver more need to come with speed ▪ Foundations are dissolved : Justice and Right is fallen quite : Thy Saints in wo involved . Lord , if thou wilt by water come ▪ Mine Eyes shall weep a Sea : Or if by Land ! my Charets stand In readiness for thee . Pardon this error ; tears nor love , Nor no such thing from me , Can speed his coming from above , But Love that is in thee . The spicy Mountains are thy way ; Thy steps perfume the Air : The Heav'ns shall open in that day , And Beams of glory fair . The Angels shall attend thy call , Thy Saints shall wait upon thee , Thy Dead shall rise , thy Trump surprize Thy Enemies flying from thee . O that , that welcome day were come ! We never saw a day . Can it be day without a Sun ? Sweet Jesus ! come away . Triuni Gloria . Omnia fecit Amor. FINIS .