CCCXXXV. CHRIST precious to the Believer.

JESUS, I love thy charming Name;
'Tis Musick to mine Ear;
Fain would I sound it out so loud,
That Earth and Heavn should hear.

Yes, Thou art precious to my Soul,
My Transport, and my Trust:
Jewels to Thee are gaudy Toys,
And Gold is sordid Dust.

All my capacious Pow'rs can wish
In Thee doth richly meet:
Nor to mine Eyes is Light so dear,
Nor Friendship half so sweet.

Thy Grace still dwells upon my Heart,
And sheds its Fragrance there;
The noblest Balm of all its Wounds,
The Cordial of its Care.

I'll speak the Honours of thy Name
With my last lab'ring Breath;
Then speechless clasp Thee in mine Arms,
The Antidote of Death.