Spiritual songs, or, Songs of praise to Almighty God upon several occasions Together with the Song of Songs which is Solomons: [F]irst turn'd, then par[ap]hrased in English verse. To which may be added, Penitential cries.

The VERSION. CHAP. II.

Christ.

1.

I Am the Rose of Sharon-Field, I am the Lilly White, The Lilly, which the Valleys yield, I am both sweet and bright.

2.

What are Thorns in th' Account of Men, Ʋnto the Lilly bright? What are the Fairest Daughters, when My Love appears in sight?

The Church.

3.

What are the common Trees o'th' Wood Unto the Apple Tree? What is the Rich and Noblest Blood, My lovely Lord, to Thee?

I sate Rejoycing in Times past Under his cooling Shade; His Fruit was sweet unto my Tast, O what a Feast I made!

4.

Unto his Cellars stor'd with Wines, He caus'd Me to remove, Over my Head abroad he spread The Banner of his Love.

5.

Give Flagons for a Cordial, Bring Apples Me to chear; For I am sick, I faint, I fall, I languish for my Dear.

6.

His Left Hand underneath my Head, For my Support is plac'd; His Right Hand over me is spread, And thus I am Embrac'd.

7.

O Salems Daughters, you I charge, Both by the Roe and Hind; Ye do not move nor stir my Love, Until it be his mind.

8.

My Welbeloved's Voice of Joy, My Heart with Comfort fills; He comes Leaping on Mountains high, And Skipping on the Hills.

9.

My Welbeloved comes in hast, Like a swift footed Roe; Nay, my Beloved flies so fast, Young Hart did never so.

Behind our Wall, lo! he doth stand, He's at our Windows seen; He shews himself so near at Hand, There's but a Grate between.

10.

I gladly heard his gracious Tone, Who thus to me did say, Rise up, my Love, my Fairest One, Make haste and come away.

11.

The Season of the Year invites, The Winters gone and past; Behold a Spring of new Delights! No Rain, nor stormy Blast.

12.

The Flowers upon the Earth appear, The Birds begin to sing; The People of our Land do hear The Turtles murmuring.

13.

Green Figs upon their Trees are grown, Young Grapes their Smells display; Rise up, my Love, my Fairest One, Make haste and come away.

14.

O my Fair Dove, whose Fairness dwells In dark Obscurity, In cloven Rocks, and secret Cells, Come, shew thy self to me: O let thy Face to me appear, I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy Voice answer mine, Thy Voice is Musick in mine Ear, Thy Countenance doth shine.

15.

Catch us the Foxes in a Toyl, The little Foxes catch; For they our Fruitful Vines do spoil, Their tender Grapes they snatch.

16.

My Welbeloved, he is mine, And I am his indeed; In Pastures, which with Lillies shine, He makes his Flock to feed.

17.

Till the day break, and shades depart, Beloved, hast to me; Even as the Roe and tender Hart On Bether-Mountains flee.

The Paraphrase. CHAP. II.

Christ.

1.

SƲch is the Power of my sweet Love, My Church it sweetneth; It sweetens Earth and Heav'n above, It sweetens Life and Death: Such is the Beauty of my Face, 'Tis with such Glories crown'd, That Solomon's Glory must give place, To what shines me around; As Lillies in the Valleys-grow, So I the Valleys own: The Humble are my Heav'n below, The Lowly are my Throne.

2.

No comely Persons can I see, But whom my Grace adorns; My Church a Lilly is to me, And all the Rest are Thorns.

The Church.

3.

None but a Jesus, none but He! He is the Chiefest Good; My Jesus is an Apple-Tree, And others Barren Wood: He is a Shadow from the Heat Of Conscience, Wrath and Hell; He is true Manna, Heav'nly Meat, Which feeds his Israel: The Shadow of his Sacraments Hath been exceeding good; Under that Shade a Feast I made Upon his Flesh and Blood.

4.

My Christ is like a Cellar Stor'd With sweet and precious Wine; What Sweetness found I in my Lord, When he said, I am thine! As Souldiers to their Colours stand, And after them do move; So doth my dearest Lord command, And draw me by his Love.

5.

Nothing but Glory can suffice The Appetite of Grace; I long for Christ with Restless Eyes, I languish for his Face.

O take me up, or let me Sup On Promises Divine; Those Apples from the Tree of Life, Those Flagons full of Wine.

6.

How am I Born, whilst sick of Love, In those blest Hands of his? His Left my Souls Support doth prove, His Right my Comfort is.

7.

And whilst his Love doth me enflame, Hear what a Charge I give, All ye that own his Sacred Name, Do not his Spirit grieve: He is all Love, he is my Love, O do not him abuse! Do not again put him to pain, Dear Christians, turn not Jews: Lord, leave us not; yet if thou wilt, With Tears we'll own thy Right; But a Departure forc'd by Guilt, Makes a Tempestuous Night.

8.

My dearest Saviours Voice I hear, He comes on my account; Nothing can stop his full Career, No, not Corruptions Mount.

9.

My Lord makes hast from Heav'n to Earth, And he himself presents, To Men of a polluted Birth, By Word and Sacraments: Tho', like a Wall, our frail Estate Prevents a perfect Sight,

Yet thro' his Ordinances Grate, Dart in some Beams of Light.

10.

My Lord to me did thus begin, Arise, my Love, and flee From World, Flesh, Satan, Self and Sin, O come away to me!

11.

Time was when thou wast cold and dead, An Heir of Wrath thou wast, And Vengeance-Storms hung o're thy Head, But those sad Days are past.

12.

The Flowers of Grace begin to spring In Thee so hopefully; That all the Heav'nly Quire doth sing Glory to God on High.

13.

My Church, thou art my tender Plant, My Dews have nourish'd Thee; Now thou art 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mine, now thou must grant, Thy Fruit, thy Self to Me.

14.

My heartless Dove, why dost thou faint, And hide thy self from me? Thou know'st not how I love a Saint, How welcome thou should'st be: Come, come, before thy Lord appear, Thy Person joys my Sight; Let me thy Prayers and Praises hear, Thy Voice is my Delight.

15.

Ye Men of God, whose Charge it is, In God's Courts to attend;

Restrain those Enemies of his, Which do his Church offend.

16.

Mine through my Faith is my dear Lord, His through his Love am I; He feeds his People with his Word, Which tasts most pleasantly.

17.

He feeds them with his Word of Grace, Till Glories Day appears; Which all the Shades away shall chase, Of Sins, and Griefs, and Fears: Come Love, come Lord, come that long day, My earnest Expectation; Shovel these Days out of the way, These Hills of Separation.