English

THE COMPANION'S WORDS .

If thy Belov'd, O fairest fair,
Be such a matchless one,
With thee we'd seek him, wist we where;
O tell us where he's gone?

THE CHURCH'S WORDS .

My Lord's down to his garden dress'd,
The place of his repair,
'Mong spicy beds to feed and feast,
And gather lilies there.

I'm my Belovd's, and he is mine;

CHRIST'S WORDS .

Lo! thou art fair to me, my love;
Lo! Zion thou art fair;
Thy eyes, as of a beauteous dove,
Shine through thy locks of hair:

Gay like a pleasant flock of goats,
On Gilead's stately height,
Is thine adorning hair, (that notes
Thy known deportment bright.)

Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep,
Even-shorn, from washing come;

THE CHURCH'S WORDS .

By night upon my bed I sought
Him whom my soul doth love;
I sought him, but I found him not:
Which did my sloth reprove.

I'll rise in quest of my belov'd,
And search the city round,
In public streets: so there I rov'd,
Yet ah! he was not found.

The city-watchmen met with me.
Their wonted round who move;
To them I said, O did you see

CHRIST'S WORDS .

I am the rose of Sharon fair,
To deck the field around;
The lilly of the valley, there
To grace the lowest ground.

Among the daughters in the throng
My love, whom grace adorns,
Shines as the lily does among
The rugged hurtful thoans.

THE CHURCH'S WORDS .

As th' apple-tree does far excel
Trees of the common wood;

THE TITLE .

This Song of Solomon the wise
As penman fam'd belongs;
And justly for its sacred rise,
Is nam'd the Song of Songs.

THE CHURCH'S WORDS .

With kisses of thy mouth divine,
O let me favour'd be:
For better than the richest wine
Thy love appears to me.

Thy name like ointment sweet pour'd out
Doth all perfumes excel;

A Ffliction still lyes heauie on my Soule ,
which makes her stupid, dry, and dull to pray;
Then ( Lord ) vnlesse thou doe her pow'r controule,
she needes must sinke to Hell beneath her sway .

O Sinue (that with high Hand dost hurle so low)
thou art sole Cause of this so bad Effect:
Thou NOTHING, that dost all things ouerthrow
not staid by Grace , why dost me thus defect?

O had I beene abortiue, and dead borne;

D R ead Lord by whom all Soules are sentenced,
when I bethinke me of that dreadfull Day
Wherein thou com'st to iudge the Quicke and Dead ,
I faint, as falling quite, with Feare away.

When all this All shall be reuerst, and made
a Chaos suncke in all deuouring Flames
For, Vengeance shall the Vniuerse inuade;
and, change her Fabrickes though they keepe their Names .

A chill-cold Bloud (still slowing from Dismay )

Lo rd, thou hast said, thou mad'st not death , then let
that which thou mad'st not, neuer signiorize
O'er me that thou hast made: but Watches set
to keepe death from me, when from Death I rise

If thou be sory for my Death , then who
shall let thy Ioy in giuing life to me?
If thou wilt , thou canst saue me: I not so:
I can but dye , vnlesse I liue by Thee:

For, I can will , but can performe no good ,

W H at was I, am I or what shall I be?
I was nought, am nought; and, for ought I do
Shall be farre worse then nought! ├┤ wretched me!
why? was I borne for nought and worser too?

This makes me to deplore my Day of Birth
(sith I was borne to so hard exigent)
As all men doe, that doe enioy the Earth:
yet so enloy it as th' are ne'er content.

We hold that Infant but a Prodigie

Wo ldst thou be spurr'd to run the way of truth?
then, see how time doth run with thee away:
Youth comes on Childhood: Man-hood comes on Youth:
on Man-hood, Age ; and Age at Death doth stay:

So, Time ascends and descends with such haste
vpon the Seale of Lifes-gradation ,
That liu'd we but to mend our misses past,
yet death would cease our work ere halfe were done

Time-past , is gone: in it we cannot mend;