Heaven the end of man or, Final cause of the soul's spirit. By William Williams, teutonico-philosopho-theologus

§. 3. Full Assurance.

O Thou my Souls Joy, my Virgin-Solace: The smell of thy Vesture is like a fragrant flower∣ing Meadow which the Lord hath Blessed: Thy Lips (O my Espoused Lady) drop as the Honey-comb, and the smell of thy Heavenly Ointment is more fragrant than all Spices. Therefore come, thou fair Object of my Love, we will ascend to the Top of the Holy Mount; where we shall have a prospect of the Holy Land: There the floriferous Hills look big with innocent Flocks, and the Fruit-bearing Vallies with lowing Herds; supplying the Babes of the new Birth with sincere Milk: The winged Ae∣rials in the Vocal Forrests now turn Serenades: And every flower and flourishing blossom in the florid Plains perfume the chast Air with most delicious O∣dorates. The pretty Lambs true Pictures of inno∣cent Recreation (poor Animals) skip upon the Mountains of Pleasure, bleating in the Pastures of Purity: But the boggy swamps and marishes are crowded with Amphibious Creatures, with whom I care not to converse. The Hares fly not here for fear: For the ravenous Hound in this Countrey finds other Food suitable to his Palate: Thy Plants O Divine Vertue, are an Orchard of Pomegranates, with pleasant Fruits of the Tree of E∣verlasting

Life: Saffron and Cinnamon, with Frankin∣cense. This Fountain that watereth the knots of Paradise, this Well-Spring of living Waters springing up in my Soul to Everlasting Life, and the Eternal Satisfaction of my fiery chirst; these Silver Streams that glide so softly, and with their warbling sound and murmuring m••lody recreate my tired P••ssion of Love: These Rivulets which bound upon the Banks of Eden strewed with odoriferous Ga••lands of Prayers and Praises: This Field of fair Flowers, even all these shall be shut up and sealed to the use of the Divine Nature. Let my Beloved kiss me (said she) with the kisses of his pure Mouth: For his Love is better than the chearing Wine of Pomegranates: Thy Lips, O my Dear Spouse (said he) drop as with pure Manna: Stay me with Flagons of blessed Ne∣ctar (said she) and comfort my Love passion with Pine-Apples of Eternal Life: For I am now sick of Love.