A desire of the louing Soule, of God, to be kissed with the kisse of Peace

KIsse me, ô kisse me, with Loues honyed Kisse,
ô dearest Loue, and sweet'st-Heart of my Soule:
Whose loue is like pure Wine that cordiall is;
& doth sowre cares, with Comforts sweet, controle

Thy Name is like to sweet suffused Balme;
which makes chast Soules eu'n sick for loue of thee:
Whose Passions (striuing in a blessed calme
on Sorrowes Seas) to thee still rowling be.

Draw me (deare Loue) then, after thee Ile runne
vpon the sent of thy diuine Perfumes:
My Loue's impatient (since it first begunne)
of this delay, which quite my Soule consumes:
Then, ô, delay no more to marry mee;
But wed my Soule that pines for loue of Thee.