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. V. 1.

I am come into my garden, my Sister, my Spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice: I have eaten my honey-comb with my honey: I have drunk my wine with my milk—

HYMN 76.

WEll! I am come, my Spouse, Thy Pray'rs have given me wings: I have accepted all thy vows, And tasted all thy things. In thee I find my myrrh, My honey-Combs I eat: Thy Milk and Wine is all Divine, Thy Spices all are sweet. Thy Plants that I have set, Are in a thriving plight: Thy heart a flour'shing Orchard is, A Garden of delight: O, how I joy to see My cost not lost upon thee: There grows sweet Fruit on every Tree: The younger Plants have won me. Thy Fruits of holiness, Are Aromatick Spices:

Thy Garden, and thy self no less, To me a Paradise is. My God, how is it thus! Can man relieve his Maker! No; but the grafted Cion is Of the Stocks life partaker.

CANT. V. 1.

—Eat, O friends, drink, yea, drink abun∣dantly, O beloved!

HYMN 77.

COme now, all you that are my Friends, My Church hath made a feast: Come fill your Souls with Nectar bowls, I call you with the rest. I'de have you all partake of these Her inexhausted pleasures: Come eat and drink her Pray'rs, and sink Your selves into her treasures. Her Lips shall feed you, and her Graces Their bounty shall express: If Angels come, they shall have some, And Joy to every Guest. Come then, you drooping Spirits, come; Here is a worthy prize:

And if you please to drink up Seas; I'le give her fresh supplies. Lord of all store, I thee implore; Since what is thine, is mine; And what is mine, is thine; This boon To grant do thou incline, That thou wouldst fill me with thy self, And stretch my Soul to hold thee: And I shall feast me and the rest, With what thy Love hath told me.

CANT. V. 2.

I sleep, but my heart waketh—

HYMN 78.

I Am a contradiction, Lord, I wake, yet am asleep: I am asleep, and yet I wake; I both, and neither keep. Thus after greatest beams of Love, My heart grows cold again: As after greatest gleams of Light, The Heavens grow big with rain. When first I tasted rav'shing sweet From thy divinest Love, I thought I never more should meet With darkness from above.

But now I am all Ice and Cold, My Zeal I cannot keep, As if I'de over-drunk my self; I'm fallen fast a sleep. But yet my hearts awake; I would Do better if I could The Spirit is willing, Flesh is weak; O, make me what I should. I would not rock my self asleep: If slumber overtake me, Rouse up my drowsie Sences, Lord, And by thy Power wake me.

CANT. V. 2.

—It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open unto me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

HYMN 79.

LOve will not suffer drowsiness, But kindly wakes his sleepy Spouse: Thus Parents wake their children whose Dull inclinations cannot rowze. Awakening Love a Voyage took, In all the Rain, and in the Deep;

To view the World, and found that part, That's call'd Awak'ned, fast asleep. Awak'ning Love the danger saw, How sleepy Saints unuseful were; How prone the Devil was to Rob And spoil them of their precious ware. How little love to Christ there was; As men asleep they mind him not: How soon their Temples by a Nail Might pierced be with deadly stroke. Awak'ning Love that saw things thus, Rouseth them first, with midnight cries▪ Cries Fire, Fire, O! the Fire of Hell Flames out! awake, why don't you rise? That not prevailing, turns his voice Into a Lovers earnest cry, That knocks and bounceth at the door▪ Cold, wet; Awake my Love, 'tis I.

CANT. V. 2.

It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my Sister, my Love, my Dove, my undefiled One, &c.

HYMN 80.

OPen thy heart, my Love, And let thy Jesus in: And why not ope thy heart to me, As well as unto Sin! Why not for me as well As for forbidden pleasure! Shall I stand waiting at the door, That am thy God and Treasure! Shall I, thy Lover, take This pains to make thee mine; And shall a base and sordid Lust, Ensnare that heart of thine? It breaks my heart to see My Love in Bed with Sin; Whilest I the Husband am shut out, And may not enter in. My Jealous Heart and Eye Would prompt my Hand to take A Javelin up, and strike thee dead; But that my Bowels ake,

And yearn with Love and Pity: Rise then and let me in, And I'le forgive thee all that's past, And love thee well agen.

CANT. V. 2.

It is the voice of my beloved that knocheth—

HYMN 81.

HArk! drowsie Soul! whose Voice is that? Whose hand that knocks at door, That pleads his entrance with such charms, I never heard before? 'Tis my beloved's: O that Love! Now in my lapsed state, To call me Sister, Love, and Dove, And undefiled Mate! That pleads his Journey, and his Locks Wet with the drops of Night: His head bedew'd with rain, he fain Would enter if he might. Lord, break the door, the Spirit saith, The Flesh wo'nt let me rise: Burst all the Locks and Bolts, and come, The Flesh cries otherwise. Come Jesus, sweet, and let us meet, The better part saith, Come;

But Flesh and Pleasure cries, No, no, No, no! there is no room. My God, shall Flesh prevail? 'twill be If thou stand'st neuter here, As Candle by a snuff kept down, That fain would upward soar.

CANT. V. 3.

I have put off my coat, how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?

HYMN 82.

CAn'st thou not rise, my Love? I ran To help when thou wert cast. My dearest Lord, I cannot Can, Flesh chains me down so fast. Wilt thou not rise, my Dove? I rose When dead, to make thee rise: My Lord, I cannot will; This Flesh So hard upon me lies. 'Tis night! 'tis dark! my coat is off, How can I put it on? My feet are washt, and should I rise, And make them foul anon? Thus Eve her Figleaves stitcht together; The Bidden made excuses:

The mild and gentle Jesus stands, And puts up all abuses. I might have said, Can it be Night, When day is at the door? Or dark, when he that is the Light, Can darkness overpow'r? I have put off my Coat; and can't I put it on as soon? Affronted thus, my Jesus, cry'd, Farwel my Love, I'm gone!

CANT. V. 4.

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.

HYMN 83.

AS men are wont, when taking leave, To wave the hand to parting friend: I saw him do't, my heart did heave, And all my bowels did extend. My Jesus! I shall ne're forget That dreadful black and sad surprize: I would have rose with all my heart, But at the present could not rise. My bowels sounded, when I saw His beck'ning hand a farwel give:

I thought I should have dy'd to see Him wave his hand, and take his leave. As frighted men in dreams would speak, But have not power to speak a word: My heart assai'd, to pray him stay; My moving bowels all concur'd. I hal'd for breath, and would have cri'd, Stay Lord, I come! but could not utter: I plainly saw my loss would be, Like riches running down a Gutter. My Soul, these damps and dreadful cramps, Contract the Sinews of the best: My God! appear, to me draw near, When such Temptations me infest.

CANT. V. 5.

I rose up to open to my beloved, and my hands dropped with myrrh▪ and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.

HYMN 84.

I Rose, I went, I op'd the door; But I delay'd too long My dearest Lord was gone before, Distated at this wrong.

Yet left a sweet persume behind; The sign he had been there: No sooner had I toucht the Lock, My hands dropt down with myrrh. He left me not, till I him left: And never left me so: But left a vertue still behind, To sweeten all my wo. Thus Lovers will absent, but then Tokens shall blow the Flames, And keep the Fire of Love alive, And quicken the remains. My God! my heart's a rusty Lock, Oyl it with Grace Divine: My heart is more, a chained door; Burst up this Heart of mine. Lay thy perfuming hand upon it, And drop thy sweetness in: 'Twill fire my longings to thy self; 'Twill out with Sloth and Sin.

CANT. V. 6.

I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake—

HYMN 85.

JEsus withdraws! Thus when the Sun Doth bid the World good-night; It leaves it in a Dark and most Uncomfortable plight. That word, I'm gone! that killing word, My heart did rend and tear: I little thought his words were Swords; Delays denials were. I rose, but he was gone from thence, And left me all alone: I never thought, I'le rise anon, Did Tantamount, Be gone: If tears would fetch him back, l'de weep A Sea to waft him over; If pray'rs, l'de rend the Skies with cries, But l'de regain my Lover: Wo, and alas! my woful case; Now am I left alone. In Fears and Cares, and thousand Tears, My Sorrows to bemoan.

All you that have a Soul to save, Take warning by my fall: Make no delays, give him no Nay's; Rise when you hear him call.

CANT. V. 6.

—I sought him, but I could not find him: I called him, but he gave me no answer.

HYMN 86.

ALL you whose tender bowels yearn, At full grown misery: Lament my case, my blubber'd face, And pity, pity me. I pray to him that heareth pray'rs; But mine he will not hear. He hath a bottle for all Tears, But mine must not come there. I sought him that is found of All That seek him heartily: But, O my pain! I seek in vain; My coming makes him fly. He that once lov'd my Soul, is gone▪ Whose love was sweet as Wine. I call him Love, he calls me Dog; Was ever grief like mine!

My Soul, it was thy Sin, thy Sloth, That drove thy Christ away: He call'd, but fail'd; and 'tis but just, Such slightings to repay. There never was (except 'twere his) A grief that bodes so ill: My Soul! when he writes, Seek no more Do thou read, Seek me still.

CANT. V. 7.

The watchmen that went about the City, found me; they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the Walls took away my vail from me.

HYMN 87.

THus when the Anchor's lost, The Ship's expos'd to Waves, With surly Winds and Billows tost, Like greedy open Graves. As when the wounded Deer, Bleeds with the Arrow shot: The rest forsake and come not near, And blood▪hounds take their lot. I gat me up, and went Jerusalems Streets about;

With a most full and true intent, To find my Jesus out. The Watchmen were unkind, They smite me, wound and hale: The Keepers of the City-Walls, They took away my Vail. And this by Watchmen too! Church▪Officers they were, That should have led me unto Christ, Wound me for coming there. And Keepers of the Walls, The Kingdoms Magistrates: Treat me as bad, as if I had Done Whoredom in their Gates. O what a darksome Night, When those that pray and fear, Shall be pursu'd by Law and Spight, As Thieves and Robbers are!

CANT. V. 8.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.

HYMN 88.

YE common People of the City, From great Ones I Address to you: The Priests and Rulers have no pity; They serve my Lord unkindly too. If you, or any of you be Engag'd in this design with me, To seek a Jesus, (you may find him;) Not I that did so little mind him. Then tell him, tell him, I am sick With Love, and longing for his Presence. Tell him, my Zeal is burning quick; Tell him he is my All, my Essence. If all the World were Gold, and mine, I'd give it all for one sweet smile: Could Sufferings fetch him back, I'de bear The very Pains of Hell a while. My Life's a Death, unless my Lord, Will shew himself again to me. My Death were Life, would he accord To lead me where I might him see.

Since thou can'st hide thy self from me, Where I may seek and never find thee; But I can't hide my self from thee: Sweet Jesus seek me, till thou find me.

CANT. V. 9.

What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among Women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?

HYMN 89.

FAirest of Women, tell us, who This thy Beloved is, For whom thou makest this ado, By such a charge as this. What is his Name? what is his Fame? Pray let us understand? We'l seek him too, if all be true, And seek him out of hand. There is beloved Health and Wealth, There are beloved Pleasures, There are beloved Friends and Ends, There are beloved Treasures. There a beloved Temple stands, A lovely Structure 'tis:

There are beloved means of Grace; Tell which of these it is: O what is thy Beloved, that Nothing but him can please thee! And what are these complaints, ye Saints▪ That none but he can ease ye? Are you of men the only wise? Must Wisdom dye with you? Discover thy Beloved Prize, And tell us what, and who.

CANT. V. 10.

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.

HYMN 90.

THou bottomless Abyss of Love! O help me now to set thee forth. Give Inspirations from above, And let me stammer out thy worth. Look how well temper'd white and red, Sets out the beauty of the Face! In him all beauty sits enthron'd, And all Perfections take their place. White as the Light; and God is Light; This Tincture speaks him perfect God:

Red, as was Adams Earth; it speaks Manhood, in which that God abode. But White and Ruddy, both in one, Speaks him a Person, God and Man: The white, the badg of Innocence, Never was black, nor never can. But red as blood, and red with blood, Drawn by the sins that we lay in. The white breathes Joy & Peace to Saints, The Red breathes blood to sinful men. This is the Man whose absence kills me; Chiefest of thousands he's to me: This is the man whose presence fills me: O! could I meet him! where is he?

CANT. V. 11.

His head is as the most fine Gold—

HYMN 91.

HIS Head the seat of Wisdom is, Most lovely to behold: His Understanding infinite, Shines like the purest Gold. This head of his is lifted up Above the starry Skies, When all his En'mies heads lye low, Shall sink, and never rise.

He is the head of all his Saints By way of Eminence, More worth than all their body is, As Gold to single-pence. He is the Churches head, from whence, By way of Influence, As from a Spring of Life they have Their motion, strength, and sense. The head of Powers, which he rules By Scepter and his Rod: O what a glorious head hath he! The head of Christ is God! Wonder not at me then, if I Complain as almost dead; For I have lost my God, my King; O, I have lost my Head!

CANT. V. 11.

—His locks are bushy, and black as a Raven.

HYMN 92.

HIS locks (not worn for Pride, Nor yet to set out sin; Nor yet to vaunt a swelling Tide Of naughtiness within)

Speak him a Nazarite; No Razor shaves his Head, Serving the Lord with all his might: A Separate indeed. His vow of separation Layes strongest bonds upon him; He shall be call'd a Nazarite, His locks shall well become him: His locks are curl'd and black, The vigour of his strength Will make his Enemies go to wrack, And quell his Foes at length. You glory in your Hair, The curlings of your Tresses; Come lay aside your filthy Pride, And to him make Addresses. This is the man I want; This Person I must have: O, I must quickly find him out, Or I must find my Grave.

CANT. V. 12.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

HYMN 93.

I'Le tell you farther, That if such A Person you shall see, Whose eyes like Doves are washt with milk And water; This is He. He hath a killing eye, will pierce Through Adamantine Ears, And wound a Rock but with a look, And melt it into Tears. Eyes that are clear, and fitly set, That can see all things past, And all things present, and to come, As long as time shall last: Whose eyes are purely chast: That never Open'd to let in sin; That never did the least endeavour To take foul objects in. If such a one you meet, whose eyes Like flames and lamps of fire Strike dead, and yet give Life; that do Confound, yet stir desire.

This is the man I seek; a man All-seeing, and All-Eye; Tell him, if such a one you meet, 'Tis for his Love I dye.

CANT. V. 13.

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies dropping sweet-smelling myrrh.

HYMN 94.

HIS cheeks two fragrant beauties are, Whose Odoriferous smell Like beds of spices fresh and rare, So sweet no tongue can tell. Or like the richest flow'rs in May, Whose scent perfumes the Air; Whose colours beautifie the day, And all mens wonder are. His lips are lily-white, and fair, The products of them sweet; His Counsels, Kisses, Comforts, Calls, All Cordials in them meet. The man that spake as no man spake, Each word an Oracle; The man that spake, and never hath▪ Transgrest a syllable.

Your Popes and Councils all have err'd, Those glittering trifles all; But my Beloved's lips ne're mov'd Amiss, nor never shall. This is the man my Soul seeks; oh! That I could see that Face! Them Ruby Cheeks and Lips again, In some due time and place!

CANT. V. 14.

His hands are as gold-rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright Ivory overlaid with saphires.

HYMN 95.

HAnds that have made the Heav'ns all, And all the Hoasts therein: That made the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, And you and me, and men. And when the work was spoiled quite, And overturn'd by sin: These hands of his went fresh to work, And made all up agen: His Belly, where his Bowels dwell, Are working out our aid; Like Treasures in an Ivory box, With Saphires overlaid.

Yearns to distressed Souls, that be; His heart within him roles: He mindeth not his own concerns, But sinners case condoles. 'Twas Bowels nail'd him to the Cross, 'Twas Bowels made him dye; 'Twas Bowels set his Blood abroach For such a one as I. He pities all the World, and all His suffering Saints: But he Had no Compassion for himself: O, hath he none for me!

CANT. V. 15.

His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold—

HYMN 96.

HIs Legs like marble pillars, set On Sockets of the finest Gold: The man I seek, and can't forget, Bears up himself, and all the World, Upon the basis of his strength, Supported are all things that be: Their heights & depths, their breadth and length; Who Heaven and Earth sustains, that's he.

His People and their Graces stand, Not on their own Legs, but on his: More firm than ever Adam did, That walk'd the rounds of Paradice. Those little Pillars soon let fall, What was intrusted to their pow'r: But on this Marble pillar shall His Saints be kept till their last hour. Jehovah Shaddai, is his name; The strong and mighty God is he; There is no Tongue can speak his fame, The best but lisp his dignity. This is my well beloved one; In all the World there's not the like: This is the man for whom alone, I am in this distressed plight.

CANT. V. 16.

—His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the Cedars.

HYMN 97.

HIs Countenance, who looks upon it, Takes prospect of fair Lebanon. The objects were presented from it, Dazled the Eyes of lookers on.

The various lofty Cedars there, And several sorts of other Trees. The Aromatick Fruits, there, were Graceful and grateful to the Eyes: Yet nothing like the prospect which His shining Countenance sends forth: So fair, so beautiful, so rich: O, how shall I advance his worth? O that I could but see that face, That once so strongly drew my heart! O that I could enjoy that place, That once I had beyond desert! But I have lost him, he is gone, Which makes my Eyes run down with tears: I cannot find him; left alone, I'm almost drown'd in doubts and fears. Yet this I'le say, I feel his hand, Altho I cannot see his face, And in his Presence still I stand, And he supports me with his Grace.

CANT. V. 16.

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.

HYMN 98.

THE gracious words that drop From his sweet Mouth, so free; Are sweeter than the sweets, that top, Sweetness it self to me▪ In short, this is the man, He's altogether love, And altogether lovely; can You find me such a Dove? You Daughters, this is he: This my Beloved is: No tongue can teach, no Language can Express that love of his. The drops that fills the Seas, Go count them one by one, Then joyn the number, if you please, Of Stars, till there be none. To these the Sands, the Hairs, All th' objects of the sight; Hyperbolize Immensity, And run to Infinite.

This my beloved is: He is the Total Sum Of all perfection; and the Bliss Of all that to him come.

Finis Cap. 5.

Laus Deo.