My garments are put off,
Then may I not doo so;
Shall I defile my feet I washt
So white as any snow?
Then fast euen by the dore
To me he shew'd his hand :
My heart was then enamoured,
When as I saw him stand.
Then straightwaies vp I rose
To ope the dore with speed:
My handes and fingers dropped myrrhe
Vpon the bar indeede.
Then opened I the dore,
Vnto my loue at last ;
But all in vain; for why? before,
My loue was gone and past.
There sought I for my love,
Then could I crie and call; But him I could not find, nor he Would answer me at all.
The watchmen found me then,
As thus I walk'd astray;
They wounded me, and from head
My vaile they took away.
Ye daughters of Ierusalem,
If ye my loue doo see,
Tell him that I am sicke for loue;
Yea, tell him this from me.
Thou peerelesse gem of price,
I pray thee to vs tell,
What is thy loue, what may he be,
That doth so far excell?
In my beloued's face
The rose and lilly striue:
Among ten thousand men not one
Is found so faire aliue.
His head like finest gold,
With secret sweet perfume;
His curled locks hang all as black
As any rauen's plume.
His eies be like to doues,
On riuers' banks below,
Ywasht with milk, whose collours are Most gallant to the shew.
His cheeks like to a plot
Where spice and flowers growe; His lips like to the lilly white,
From whence pure myrrh doth flow.
His hands like rings of gold
With costly chrisalet ;
His belly like the yuory white,
With seemly saphyrs set.
His legs like pillars strong
Of marble set in gold;
His countenance like Libanon,
Or cedars, to behold.
His mouth it is as sweet,
Yea, sweet as sweet may be:
This is my loue, ye virgins, loe!
Euen such a one is he!
Thou fairest of vs all,
Whither is thy louer gone?
Tell us, and we will goe with thee,
Thou shalt not goe alone.
SUPREME LOVE TO THE SAVIOUR.
Francis.
My gracious Redeemer I love!
His praises aloud I'll proclaim,
And join with the armies above
To shout his adorable name;
To gaze on his glories divine
Shall be my eternal employ,
And feel them incessantly shine,
My boundless, ineffable joy.
He freely redeem'd with his blood
My soul from the confines of hell,
To live on the smiles of my God,
And in his sweet presence to dwell;
To shine with the angels of light.
With saints and with seraphs to sing!
To view with eternal delight
My Jesus, my Saviour, my King.
In Meshech as yet I reside,
A darksome and restless abode !
Molested with foes on each side,
And longing to dwell with my God.
O when shall my spirit exchange
This cell of corruptible clay
For mansions celestial, and range
Through realms of ineffable day.
My glorious Redeemer! I long
To see thee descend on the cloud,
Amidst the bright numberless throng,
And mix with the triumphing crowd;
O, when wilt thou bid me ascend,
To join in thy praises above,
To gaze on thee, world without end,
And feast on thy ravishing love?
Nor sorrow, nor sickness, nor pain,
Nor sin, nor temptation, nor fear,
Shall ever molest me again,-
Perfection of glory reigns there ;
This soul and this body shall shine
In robes of salvation and praise,
And banquet on pleasures divine,
Where God his full beauty displays.
Ye palaces, sceptres, and crowns,
Your pride with disdain I survey!
Your pomps are but shadows and sounds,
And
pass in a moment away:
The crown that my Saviour bestows,
Yon permanent sun shall outshine;
My joy everlastingly flows—
My God, my Redeemer is mine.
THE MOTHER AT THE DEATH-BED OF HER
LOVED ONE.
COME closer, closer, dear Mamma,
My heart is filled with fears,
My eyes are dark, I hear your sobs,
But cannot see your tears.
I feel your warm breath on my lips,
That are so icy cold;
Come closer, closer, dear Mamma,
Give me your hand to hold.
I quite forget my little hymn,
"How doth the busy bee,"
Which every day I used to say,
When sitting on your knee.
Nor can I recollect my prayers;
And, dear Mamma, you know
That the great God will angry be,
If I forget them too.
And dear Papa, when he comes home,
Oh will he not be vex't?
"Give us this day our daily bread:
What is it that comes next?
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