L. M. Christ appearing to his church, and seeking her company. SS 2:8-13. The voice of my Beloved sounds Over the rocks and rising grounds; O'er hills of guilt and seas of grief He leaps, he flies to my relief. Now through the veil of flesh I see With eyes of love he looks at me; Now in the gospel's clearest glass He shows the beauties of his face. Gently he draws my heart along, Both with his beauties and his tongue; "Rise," saith my Lord, "make haste away, No mortal joys are worth thy stay. "The Jewish wintry state is gone, The mists are fled, the spring comes on; The sacred turtle-dove we hear Proclaim the new, the joyful year. "Th' immortal vine of heav'nly root Blossoms, and buds, and gives her fruit:" Lo! we are come to taste the wine; Our souls rejoice, and bless the vine. And when we hear our Jesus say, "Rise up, my love, make haste away!" Our hearts would fain outfly the wind, And leave all earthly loves behind. |