O what unhoped-for sweet supply!

O what unhoped-for sweet supply!
O what joys exceeding!
What an affecting charm feel I,
From delight proceeding!
That which I long despaired to be,
To her I am, and she to me.

She that alone in cloudy grief
Long to me appeared:
She now alone with bright relief
All those clouds hath cleared.
Both are immortal and divine:
Since I am hers, and she is mine.