Sions Sonets: Sonet 19

IF errour lead not my dull thoughts amisse,
My Genius tells me, where my true Love is;
He's busie labring on his flowry banks,
Inspiring sweetnesse, and receiving thanks,
Watring those plants, whose tender roots are dry,
And pruning such, whose Crests aspire too high,
Transplanting, grafting, reaping fruits from some,
And covering others, that are newly come.

WHat if the frailty of my feebler part,
Lockt up the Portalls of my drowsie heart?
He knowes, the weaknesse of the flesh incumbers
Th'unwilling spirit, with sense-bereaving slumbers,
My hopes assure me, in despight of this,
That my Beloved's mine, and I am his:
My hopes are firme (which time shall ne're remove)
That he is mine, by faith; I, his, by love.