To Zion where his glories are
Not Lebanon is half fo fair.
7 Nor dens of prey, nor flow'ry plains,
Nor earthly joys, nor earthly pains
Shall hold my feet, or force my stay,
When Christ invites my
foul away.
LXXIV. The Church the garden of Chrift, Solomon Song, iv. 12, 13, 15, and v. 1.
E are a garden wall'd around,
Chofen and made peculiar ground;
A little fpot, enclos'd by grace,
Out of the world's wide wildernefs.
2 Like trees of myrrh and fpice we ftand,
Planted by God the Father's hand;
And all his fprings in Zion flow,
To make the young plantation grow.
3 Awake, O heav'nly Wind, and come,
Biow on this garden of perfume!
Spirit Divine, defcend and breathe,
A gracious gale on plants beneath.
4 Make our beft fpices flow abroad,
To entertain our Saviour-God;
And faith, and love, and joy appear,
And ev'ry grace be active here.
Is Let my beloved come and tafte
His pleafant fruits at his own feaft :----
I come, my poue, I come, he cries,
With love and pleasure in his eyes.
6 Our Lord into his garden comes,
Well pleas'd to fmell our poor perfumes;
And calls us to a feaft divine,
Sweeter than honey milk or wine.
7 Eat of the Tree of Life my friends,
The biefings aubich my Father Jends;
Your tafte shall ali my daintiés pròve,
And drink abundance of my love.
8 Jefus, we will frequent thy board,
And fing the bounties of our Lord -
But the rich food, on which we live,
Demands more praife than tongues can give]
LXXV. The de cription of Chrift the beloved,
Sol. Song, v. 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15, 16
THE wond'ring world enquires to know,
Why I Lould love my Jefus fo:
What are his charms, say they, abore
The objects of a mortai lowe ?
2 Yes my Beloved, to my fight
Shews a fweet mixture red and white;
All human beauties, all divine,
In my Beloved meet and fhine.
3 White is his foul, from blemish free;
Red with the blood he fhed for me;
The fairest of ten thousand fairs,
A fun, among ten thousand stars.
14 His head the fineft gold excels;
There wifdom in perfection dwells,
And glory like a crown adorns
Thofe temples once befet with thorns!
5 Compaffions in his heart are found,
Hard by the fignals of his wound:
His facred fice no more fhall bear
The cruel fcourge the piercing fpear.)
[6 His hands are fairer to behold,
Than diamonds fet in rings of gold;
Thofe heav nly hands, which on the tree,
Were nail'd and torn, and bled for me;
7 Though once he bow'd his feeble knees,
Loaded with fins and agonies,
Now on the throne of his command
His legs, like marble pillars, stand.]
[8 His eyes are majefty and love→→→
The eagle temper'd with the dove,
No more shall trickling forrows roll
Through thofe dear windows of his foul.]
9. His mouth which pour'd out long complaints
Now fimiles and chears his fainting faints:
His countenance more gracefulia
Than Lebanon, with all its trees.
10. All over glor'ous is my Lord,
Must be belov'd and yet ador'd;
His worth if all the nations knew,
Sure the whole earth would love him too.
LXXVI. Chrift dwells in heaven but vifits on Earth, Sol .Song, vi. 1, 2, 3, 12.
WHEN treaties in my Saviour dwell;
HEN ftrangers ftand and hear me tell
Where he is gone they fain would know,
That they may feek and love him too.
My bet Beloved keeps his throne
On hills of light, in worlds unknown:
But he defcends and fhews his face
In the young gardens of his grace.
[3 In vineyards planted by his hand,
Where fruitful trees in order ftand;
He feeds among the fpicy beds,
Where lilies fhow their spotlefs heads.
4 He has engrofs'd my warmeft love,
No earthly charms my foul can move;
I have a manfion in his heart,
Nor death nor hell fhall make us part.]
Is He takes my foul c'er l'am aware,
And thows me where his glories are;
No char'ot of Aminadib
The heav'nly rapture can defcribe.
6 O may iny fpirit daily rife
On wings of faith above the fkies,
Till death fhall make my last remove,
To dwell forever with my love.
LXXVII. The love of Chrift to the Church, Sol" Song, vii, 5. 6, 9. 12, 13.
NOW, in the gall'ries of his grace,
Appears the King, and thus he fays:
How fair my faints are in my fight,
My love, bow pleasant for delight!
2. Kind is thy language, Sov'reign Lord,
There's heav'nly grace in ev'ry word;
From that dear mouth, a ftream divine
Flows fweeter than the choiceft wine.
3 Such wond'ro us love awakes the lip
Oftaints, who were almoft asleep,
To speak the praifes of thy name.
And makes o ur cold affections flame.
4 Thefe are the joys he lets us know
In fields and villages below;
Gives us a relish of his love,
But keeps his nobleft feaft above.
5 In paradife, within the gates,
An higher entertainment waits ;
Fruits, new and old, laid up in ftore,
There we thall feed-but thirst no more.
LXXVIII. Strength of Chrift's love, and the fouls jealousy of her own, Sol. Song, viii.
WHO is this fair one, in diftrefs,
That travels from the wilderne fs?
And, prefed with forrows and with fins,
On her beloved Lord fhe leans.
2 This is the spouse of Chrift, our God,
Bought with the treasures of his blood,
And her requeft, and her complaint,
Is but the voice of ev'ry faint.
3 "Olet my name engraven stand,
* Both on thy heart and on thy hand ;
"Seal me upon thine arm and wear
"That pledge of love forever there.
4 "Stronger than death, my love is known,
"Which foods of wrath could never drown';
"And hell and earth, in vain combine,
"To quench a fire fo much divine.
5" But I am jealous of my heart,
"Left it fhould once from Thee depart;
"Then let thy name be well imprefs'd,
"As a fair fignet on my breaft.
6" "Till thou haft brought me to thy home "Where fears and doubts can never come; "Thy count'nance let me often fee,
And often thou fhalt hear from me. 7 "Come, my beloved, hafte away; "Cut fhort the hours of thy delay; 65 Fly, like a youthful hart or ros "Over the hills where fpices grow."
LXXIX. A morning Hymn, Pfalm xix. 5, 8, and ixxiii. 24, 25.
OD of the morning, at whofe voice
The Chearful fun makes halte to rife,
And, like a giant, doth rejoice
To run his journey through the skies.
2 From the fair chambers of the caft, The circuit of his race begins
And, without weariness or reft,
Round the whole earth he flies and fhines.
3 Oh, like the Sun, may I fulfil Th' appointed duties of the day; With ready mind and active will, `March on, and keep my hear nly way ! [4 But I fhall rove, and lofe the race, if God, my Sun, fhould disappear, And leave me in this world's wild maze, To follow ev'ry wand'ring ftar.
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