Spiritual hymns upon Solomons song: or, Love in the right channel Wherein that divine part of scripture is paraphras'd, and the dark places expounded; and may be vocally sung in the ordinary tunes of the singing Psalms. By John Reeve.

CANT. III. 1.

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

HYMN 47.

MY God! I love thee with my Soul, And yet I lye in Bed; Tho thou art mine, and I am thime, My heart is almost dead. Such drowsie damps o'recast my Joys; I seek thee half asleep: And now I cannot hear thy Voice, I only sigh and weep. I seek thee, but I find thee not: My Lord, where art thou gone? Into what Covert art thou got, And leav'st me here alone? A sloathful Suitor I have been; It prompts me to conclude: My Christ won't humour drowsiness▪ Nor mind dull Solitude. Wake me, my God, with Voice and Rod: O rouse my drousie Senses: Let me not lye, and sleeping dye, Or idly make pretences.

My Soul awake, and rise, and shake This dulness off: for why? If thou will vainly live to sleep, Then must thou sleeping dye.

CANT. III. 2.

I will arise now, and go about the city, in the streets, and in the broad ways: I will seek him whom my soul loves: I sought him, but I found him not.

HYMN 48.

IN vain do I divert my self, And think the World shall ease me: And roul my self in earthly Pelf, And in its Pleasures please me. In the broad ways and City▪streets; A Christ is rarely found: A Soul distrest, he seldom greets Upon such dirty ground. Thou 'ast left this wicked World long since: O, Christ thou art not there: O, let me get me out from hence, And seek some other where. Be gone, vain Pleasures, empty Toys, You please, yet vex me sore:

You interrupt my sp'ritual Joys: I'le never love you more. I seek in vain, my Christ to gain, He dwells in other places: You'r all my hindrance, and my sin, I'le never see your Faces. I thought I might enjoy his Light, In midst of worldly Pleasure: But I have found the World abound With no such blessed Treasure.

CANT. III. 3.

The watchmen that go about the City, found me: to whom I said, Saw ye not him whom my soul loveth?

HYMN 49.

YOu spiritual Watchmen at the Gate: O you whose Office 'tis To pity my distressed State, And tell me where he is: He whom my Soul loves; you know who, I shall not need to name: The Earth, the Seas, the Heav'ns and you, Are filled with his Fame. Tell me, O tell me, where he is, If it be known to you:

He is my only Joy, and Bliss, My Life and Heaven too? If I can't find him, I must dye, What is this Life to me? If he absent, my Soul is spent: O, tell me where is he▪ He that my Sin hath griev'd away, Whose absence now I moan, That shed his Blood for my Souls good: O, whither is he gone? What! can't you answer? are you such Watchmen that cannot see? Or want you pow'r in this dark hour, To bring my Lord to me?

CANT. III. 4.

It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mothers house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.

HYMN 50.

MY Soul, if thou a Christ would'st find, In a distressed gloomy day; Unto the Shepherds bend thy mind, And they'l instruct thee in the way.

No sooner parted from them, when I found my Joy, my Souls delight: My heart did dance within me then, And I was ravish'd with his sight. I found my Jesus; let me come, And him imbrace with both these arms: That like the rising of the Sun, Did rid my Soul of Midnight harms. My Soul! now hold him fast, and don't Disturb his quiet any more, Thy life and happ'ness lyes upon t: A fresh departure will be sore: I'le bring him to my Mothers House, There's Souls to save, as well as mine: I'le Feast him there, with all that's rare, And give him most delicious Wine. The Wine that makes his heart full glad, Is when he tastes the Loves of those That once were Rebels, or as bad, That are his Friends, and were his Foes.

CANT. III. 5.

I charge you, O ye Daughters of Jerusalem, by the Roes, and by the hinds, that ye stir not up, nor awake my beloved, till he please.

HYMN 51.

WHat pity 'tis that such a Guest, Whose Essence is all Love: Should be disturbed in his rest, And forc'd to make remove. You Members of his Churches all, Would I could charm you so; By Roes and Hinds, to still the Winds, And make no noise below. He gave me rest the other day, When I was almost dead With frights and fears, and drown'd in tears, He lifted up my head. I never met with Joy till then, Nor never knew a day, Nor saw a Sun till he was come, To fright my Fears away. Contentments! there are no such things, There is no Sunshine-weather: No happiness, but that which brings Christ and my Soul together.

'Tis just that you and I requite This blessed Peace he gave us, And freely give him rest for rest, As our dear Lord would have us.

CANT. III. 6.

Who is this that cometh out of the Wilderness like pillars of smoak, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?

HYMN 52.

I Heard him speak his Love to Saints, That were out of desertion creeping: Arabian deserts spicy fumes, Ne're smelt so sweet, as smoak of weeping. Who's this! what glorious Person's this, That takes this solitary path; That fears no way, nor Beasts of prey; Of Desert-frights, no terror hath? But through all these dangers dares To come to a despised Jesus, And warily scapes the Desert-snares, And crys, There's nothing else will please us▪ It is my Church; to me she seems, Like to some smoaky Pillar▪ which

Fir'd by the Holy Spirit means To soar alost an heav'nly pitch. She's in my Nostrils sweet perfume; The Merchant-Powders worthless be: The Myrrh, the Frankincense may soon Their Odors lose, but never she: Her Gifts and Graces, Pray'rs and Tears, Her Faith and Patience, Joy and Fears, Her Up's and Down's, her Sigh and Groans, Like bruised Myrrh, perfume the Air. Come forward then with winged pace, And leave this Wilderness behind: The nearer me, the sweeter place; Be thou but loyal, I'le be kind.

CANT. III. 7.

Behold his bed, which is Solomons: threescore valiant men are about it, of the Valiants of Israel:

HYMN 53.

KIng Solomon's Bed, that guarded was With threescore Men of Might, Whose Weapons breathed Fire to those, That wak'd him in the Night; Types out the Royal Guards, that tend His Throne and Diadem:

Numberless Angels guarding him, That Guards himself and them: My Jesus! he is now at rest, At Gods right hand of Pow'r, And of eternal Joy possest, Secur'd as in a Tow'r. No might nor spight shall ere affright; The bloody sweat is past: No more the Tears shall trickle down, That trickl'd down so fast. The flaming Cherubims of old, That kept the Tree of Life: Still keep the Chambers of the Lamb, And his beloved Wife. O thou that lov'st my Soul, command, Send me but one of those: But one of these sweet Angels, and I'le never fear my foes.

CANT. III. 8.

They all hold swords, being expert in war, eve∣ry man hath his sword upon his thigh, be∣cause of the fear of the night.

HYMN 54.

ANGELS expert in War, Heav'ns great Artillery:

Gods Hosts unseen, Defenders are Of my dear Love and Me. 'Tis not 'cause I deserve To have a Life guard by me; But 'cause he in a Bed of love Will please to settle nigh me. If Hosts against me rise, And men of War shall scare me: The Lord of Hosts will send his Hosts, They in their arms shall bear me. The Lord will Muster up, And send them to the Courts Of Tyrant▪ Rulers, who shall down With them, and all their Forts. Believe it, there are Thrones, And Nobles sit upon them: Above the earthly greatest Ones, And Judgments issue from them. These, these shall do us right, When we can nothing do; With Herod's of the World shall fight, And overcome them too.

CANT. III. 9.

King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.

[Ver. 10] He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.

HYMN 55.

KIng Solomon's Charet for his Bride, Of Wood of Lebanon was made: This Charet bottom was of Gold, This Charet Silver pillars had. Cover'd with Purple, pav'd with Love: But O, how far surpast by him, Who is All love from head to foot, To draw all Love to him agen. Jesus, King Jesus, for his Spouse, For the Lambs Wife, his Bride, hath built A far more glorious Chariot, which With Love and Pow'r is double gilt: Brac'd with the everlasting Arms, Whose covering is eternial Glory, Whose substance is a Love that warms, Whose Wheels run to the Joy before ye.

Now blessed be that boundless Love, And blessed be that endlefs Power, And blessed be that God above, That made his Chariot like a Tower. This Honour all his people have, They go on foot, and yet they ride: Thus rides the Princes, when advanc't In stately Pomp, by Prince his side.

CANT. III. 11.

Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espou∣sals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.

HYMN 56.

O That, that blessed day were come, When we might meet our Solomon, Crown'd King of Saints, and Nations, and Having the World at his command! His Father hath already Crown'd him, Giv'n him a Title to this thing: When shall his Mothers arms surround him, And Crown him her eternal King? 'Twill be the gladness of his heart, When he shall once espouse that Spouse:

When Kingdoms shall their Loves impart, And all his Foes caught in a Noose: Arise! descend thou Royal Prince, Thy Coronation-day is come: In Seat of thy Magnficence, Thy Church would fain affix thy Crown. Thy Mother, Sister, Brother, wait, And long to see that blessed day, When Sin and Sorrow's out of date, And crowned Jesus bears the sway. O, when shall Jews and Gentles both, Fasten thy Crown upon thy head! Gentiles have done it, Jews hold off; By both must this be managed.

Finis Cap. 3.

Deo gratias.