The Song of Songs, Chapter III: The Paraphrase

The Church.
ONce did I seek my dearest Lord,
But with a sleepy Mind;
His presence he did not afford;
Slack Seekers cannot find.

Shall I, said I; forgoe my Christ,
And so close up mine Eyes?
No, no, he was so dearly mist,
I could not but arise.
My Bed was Thorus, no Bed for me,
Nothing could give me rest,
Till I my dearest Lord might see,
And can upon his Breast:
When private means could not prevail,
In publick Him I sought;
I waited till my Eyes did fail,
Alas! I found him not.

God's holy Watchmen did Me find,
Of whom I did enquire,
Pray, can ye help my troubled Mind,
Which doth a Christ desire?
O happy Stars, if ye might be
My Guides to Jesus now!
Seers, did ye my Saviour see?
Pray tell me where and how?
Means must be us'd, but cannot heal
Without a Sovereign Word;
Christ only can himself reveal;
And still I lack'd my Lord.

One dark Hour more I did sustain,
And then the Night was past;
Tho' I had sought so long in vain,
I found my Lord at last;
I found my Lord and held him fast,
And would not let him part;
My New-found Jesus I embrac'd,
And Lodg'd Him in my Heart:
I would not lose my Christ again,
And gain a Second Hell;
My Prayers and Tears did him constrain
Within my Soul to dwell.
As Clouds are pierc'd with powerful light,
His Beams thro' me did shine;
His dear Assemblies saw this Sight,
And joy'd that Christ was mine.

Christ's Love my Heart doth so inflame,
This Charge I needs must give;
All ye that own his Sacred Name,
Do not his Spirit grieve:
He is all Love, he is my Love,
O do not him abuse!
Do not again put him to pain,
Dear Christians, turn not Jews:
Lord, leave us not; yet if thou wilt,
With Tears we'll own thy Right;
But a Departure forc'd by Guilt,
Makes a Tempestuous Night.

Weak Believers.
What Heav'nly Souls from Earth arise,
And do at Heav'n aspire!
They mount, they soar, they fix their Eyes
On God their chief Desire:
Earths Wilderness they nobly scorn,
Whilst others Rake for it;
Heav'ns Graces them do so Adorn,
That they for Heav'n are fit.

The Church.
Admire not me, but my dear Lord,
Whose Bosom gives me rest;
Whose Angels watch with one accord,
That none should me molest.

These Heav'nly Guards are full of might,
And ready do they stand,
For to defend his Churches Right,
When he shall them command:
When Darkness breeds tormenting Fear,
Then help comes from on High;
A strengthing Angel doth appear
Amidst that Agony.

Heav'n is the High and Glorious Throne,
Of my most Glorious Lord;
Who yet on Earth Rides up and down
I'th' Chariot of his Word.

His Word is rich, and strong, and pure,
As all his Saints do prove;
Who of its true Intent are sure,
And find, it's Heart is Love.

Go ye that own the Highest Name,
Behold a Glorious Shew;
How the Almighty spreads his Fame;
And what his Word can do:
This mighty King Rides Conquering,
His Word goes forth with Might;
Which wooes and wins the Slaves of Sin,
Both by its Force and Light:
Those Slaves their Hellish Lords forsake,
And Christ do humbly own;
And as his Spouse, he them doth take,
And wears them as his Crown:
Great was their Need; greater his Love
Than their Necessity.
As well they may, glad do they prove,
But not so glad as He.