The Song of Songs, Chapter VII: The Paraphrase

Christ.
O Daughter of the Mighty God,
How comely are thy Feet?
With Gospel-preparation Shod!
Thy carriage how discreet?

Thou art both Fair and Fruitful too,
Great Numbers thou dost Breed,
Which with good Meals, the Word and Seals,
Thou liberally dost feed,

The two Breasts of thy Testaments
Most friendly do accord;
Which Nourishment and sweet content
To New-born Babes afford:
The cries of a distressed Soul,
These Breasts of comfort still;
These Breasts make glad whom sin makes sad,
These Breasts the Hungry […]ill.

Thy Faith is thy strong Fort and Tower,
Thine Understanding clear;
Thy Judging and Discerning Power
Informs when Danger's near:
Thy Christ, thy Head of Eminence
All Others doth exceed;
Thy Christ, thy Head of Influence
Thy Grace doth keep and feed:
When thine Assemblies Exercise
Their Graces freely given,
The King walks in those Galleries,
As in another Heaven.

My Church, who art most New, most Fair,
How Dear art thou and Sweet;
In whom all Sweets compacted are,
In whom all Graces meet?

Under thy weight thou flourishest
As the stout Palm-Tree doth;
My Church, the more thou art deprest,
The greater is thy growth:
The Breasts of thy two Testaments,
Like Clusters of the Vines;
Are full of Juice, which for thy use
Tield store of Heav'nly Wine.

When I perceiv'd thy Soul to thrive,
Like to a Fruitful Tree;
Then I drew near, that I might chear,
And joy my self in thee,
Nor did I empty-handed come,
But added to thy Store;
God's Word came then more near and home,
Thy Graces scented more.

Thy Speech is like the choichest Wine,
So lovely and so strong;
It makes the Sinners Heart divine,
And sanctifies his Tongue.

The Church.
My dearest Lords Affection
I cannot but admire;
I am my welbeloved's own,
I am his Hearts desire.

I gladly with my Lord could talk,
And spend both Night and Day;
Come Lord, let us together walk,
Let us together stay.

Come let's go see what Fruits and Flowers
Adorn thy Garden place,
Under the Sun shine and the showers
Of days and means of Grace:
Could I but see thy Children Spring,
And in an happy frame;
O how should I rejoyce and sing,
And love thee for the same!

Thy Saints their Services present,
Which of Sweet Savour be;
Saints New and Old within my Tent,
Are kept from Heav'n and thee.