1 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.
2 Now thro' the veil of flesh I see
With eyes of love he looks at me;
Now in the gospel's clearest glass
He shews the beauties of his face.
3 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.
4 |The Jewish wintery state is gone,
|The mists are fled, the spring comes on,
|The sacred turtle-dove we hear
|Proclaim the new, the joyful year.
5 |Th' immortal vine of heavenly root
|Blossoms and buds, and gives her fruit:|
Lo, we are come to taste the wine;
Our souls rejoice and bless the vine.
6 And when we hear our Jesus say,
|Rise up, my love, make haste away!|
Our hearts would fain out-fly the wind,
And leave all earthly loves behind.