Classic Poem

My Crown desired, my true love and Joy,
All hail. Grace, Mercy, Peace to thee
From Jesus Christ our Lord and God above
Most high, continually vouchsafed be.
All hail Dear Soul, whose presence makes me glad
All hail True Love, whose absence makes me sad.

Love dropping lines — of thine oft have I read,
Distilling sweetness that by far out Excells
The purest Nectar from the honey bed
Of heavenly liquor stord in curious Cells.
I read them oft, my Solace now they are,
Still near my heart though now respect to[o] far
Whilst at this distance I am fill'd with Care.

Am filld with care, whilst Sadly I Revolve
In mine inflamd Breast the tender love
I to the[e] Bear, wherein I do Resolve
To spend my days Sith such to me you prove.
Oh happy I whilst your Affection Rare
You so discover as to ease my Care.

I want your words oft, Words convey the Mind.
Words deeds interpret and do satisfie
The heart wherein they credit due do find.
Words raise, Words fell the heart, words amplifie
The kind expressions of more Silent Signs.
Words potently sad hearts to Joy inclines.

O why should you me of those Joys debarr?
Why with such sad Aspect, Such fixed Eye —
In other Objects, seem you at a [ ]
What motions are they? what doe you descry?
What holds you in suspence? Or plainly tell
What doth displease? What is't you like not Well?

Those Manifold Temptations what are they
That excersise your Thoughts, barr up your Speech
Cause Sadness in my Presence? Oh mi Joy,
Tell me then Plainly I do thee beseech.
Thy Joy I seek, thy comfort's my desire
Whilst to enjoy thy bosom I aspire;
Thy person for my Portion would acquire.
If kept I cannot nor remove it then
Let me the Sadness bear, conceale it not;
Plunge not yourself in ruefull Sorrows when
Foreseing would prevent. If tis my lot,
Let me my Burden bear, and bear 't alone;
What God lays on me must be undergone

What tho twere like to kill me, better dye
By Gods wise hand, than not to bear his hand.
Ill trust him with my life (my Dear) and trye
If heel not help to be at his command;
He'l doubtless save the poor that in him trust
And Raise the Lowly from the very Dust.

Oh let not then the Burden lay on thee
Which I alone should bear, but your heart,
Your Bosom freely open unto me,
Unlocke your cares. Ile in your griefs take part,
If I can help it or remove it Sure
Then that your Sadness shall not long endure.

To do, to Suffer, for your welfare I
Resolved am the utmost that presents
As requisite or in my power doth lie.
These are my Secret Thoughts, my True intent.
Banish sad damps then. Cloath your love with Joy.
Hearts Secrets to me open, Be not coy

I Know your loves Entire so is mine;
And yet assaulted it Shall be, I know.
Men will expose to tryall purest myne,
And Satan ever was loves deadly foe.
Temptations wisely God himself permits
And by them his for farther solace fits.

We must be try'd. I look for't; nothing New
Therein befall can. Onely arm we Must
With Christian Armour, that most firm and true,
And in our great Commander Still must trust.
He'll ne'r forsake him that up rightly Shall
Commit to him their heart contentment [ ].

My heart still ravish'd with your love, to be
In the glad duty whereto I am bound,
And true Solaces therein I Shall see
Whilst interchanged joys with us abound.
And we in one do laugh and weep together,
Firmly conjoyned in both, disjoynd in neither.

My musing heart thus, in thy love must wander.
Oh blame me not! thou art the Object dear
Of well fixt thoughts, true love is the Commander
That bids be glad, or Sad, Rejoice or fear.
Be constant in this kind,
Upon thy constant kindness I rely.

Think it not much that I cannot now See thee
As I resolved when I last took leave;
The fast or hast thoughts I would fain be with thee.
Swift time me of that solace doth bereave;
Tho near in heart, tho far apart, I am
Joying in this that you are just the Same. —

Yet Gods Sharp visit of your family
Would urge my coming, could I but dispence
With Publick work, So that I might be by
To counsell, comfort, against Sorrows Sense.
Excuse my Absence, Dearest, I pray,
And with a Letter these my Lines repay.

God the Physician great now undertake
To heal your Sick, your Well for to preserve,
And this Sad Rod unto us usefull make,
Not dealing with us as our Sins deserve.
He blessing, bless you to his grace Commanding,
You and your branches dear my love now Ending.

These present lines of love, with thankfull heart,
Gladly accepting what you last me sent,
I must conclude you are my Choicest Part:
My dearest delight on Earth, my Hearts Content,
Who longing, longing, longing am to Match her
Whose my Dear Sheaf, and I her only