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.