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Thy fellowship's my fond desire,

Thus fu'd by kindly calls;
Because my vanquish'd heart on fire

Thy beauty's captive falls.
I cannot see with pleasure, love,

Thy feet on mountains roam ;
Nor can I rest, until above

My palace be thy home.
I own, my spouse, and sister dear,

Unsham'd my brother-hood;
We're doubly fib, our kindred's near

By marriage and by blood. Thou hast, my Father being thine, In's love a filial part;

a And I'm (thou hast so much of mine,)

Scarce master of my heart. To thee I bear a love intense,

Ev'n to the last degree; Thou, in effect, by violence

Haft rapt my heart from me. Of all created beauties brave

E'er fashion'd by my hand, None like thy comely graces have

My heart at such command.
One glance of thy believing eye,

One chain of thy fair neck,
Part of thy form has ravish'd me;

How must the whole affect !
Thy pow'rful faith and love detains

My heart trapt, yet enlarg’d,
With strong delights and pleasing chains,

I'm conquer'd and o'er.charg'd.

Verse 10. How far is thy love, my sister, my Spouse !

bow mucb better is tby love than wine ! and tbe

Smell of tby ointments, iban all spices !
Dear relative, thou in whose veins

My blood and Spirit run,
Bound to my heart by various chains,

I'll in thy praise go on.

How fair ! how grateful unto me

Are all thy fruits of love! Thy love beyond compare I fee,

And with my heart approve.
My love divine was in thine eye

Preferr'd to richest wine;
And, not to be behind with thee,

I'll speak the praise of thine.
Thy love excells the choicest wine

That chears man's heart apace ;
For lo ! this fervent grace of thine

Can God's own heart solace :
No wine of off’rings once pour'd out

Did such acceptance win,
As does thy shining life without,

From burning love within.
All graces sweet thy love attend,

By me acceptance find,
And forth their fragrant odours send,

Like oil of purest kind.
The holy unction pour'd on thee

Yields to my heart a feast,
And smells more t redolent to me

Then fpices of the east.
As streams into the spring reflow,

To me is thy recourse :
I call thee fair, who made thee fo;

My love's of thine the fource.
Thy love's my due, because of old

With men were my delights ; I joy'd in loves I should behold,

Now charm’d I'm with the fights.
Heart piercing love of ancient rise

Thou didst so much engross
The wounds of love made me despise

The torments of my cross. .
Ver. 11. Tby lips, O my spoufe, drop as the boney.

comb : boney and milk are under thy tongue, and ibe Smell of tby garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

Sweet, or favoury

O spouse, thy love with loveliness

Is mix'd in word and walk ;
My tongue takes pleasure to express

How I approve thy talk.
Drops from my lips distill’d, with ease,

To saints more sweetness yield,
Than honey-combs which busy bees

Suck from the flow'ry field.
Both Canaan's blessings glide below

Thy sweet instructive tongue :
For thence do milk and honey flow,

To feed and feast thy young.
Thy heart still with thy tongue agrees,

To fill the flowing tide,
And shew thou art, without disguise,

My fair and fertile bride.
Such is thy wonted holy strain,

Refreshing pleasures load,
Thy language in discourse with men,

And duty towards God.
Cloath'd with my righteousness, thy smell

Is like a field of bliss :
And hath with this, to deck thee well,

A robe of fav'ry grace.
Hence still abroad thy favour flies

In work and practice fair,
Which Lebanon's perfumes outvies,

That scents the circling air.
As there, sweet-smelling trees and flow'rs

Did, fann'd with gales, abound;
Thy gospel-walk sweet odours pours

To God and man around.

Verse 12. A garden inclosed is my fifter, my spouse;

a Spring fhui up, a fountain sealed.

My bride's a garden of folace,

Where fruits and flow'rs abound; A sacred spot, incloss’d by grace,

Well fenc'd and wall'd around,

From common earth fequestrate quite,

Reserved for my use;
Preserved also by iny might,

From vi’lence and abufe.
A spring, defusing crystal streams,

Does 'midst the garden swell;
Shut up from sultry hurtful beams,

And feet would taint the well. A fountain fealid for secrecy,

To enhance the worth unseen :
For shelter and security,

To keep it pure and clean.
My privy-feal was stamp'd thereon,

That bliss which heav'n commands
Abroad from thence in rills may run,

And streams o'er diftant lands, As me the Father feald to spread

For hungry fouls Heav'n's food; So Zion's springs are seal'd, to shed

On thirsty ground a flood. Verse 13, 14. Tby plants are an orchard of pomgra

nates, witb.pleasant fruits, camphire with Spikenard; Spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinna. mon, with all the trees of frankincense;, myrrb

and aloes, with all the chief Spices. Sweet fruits all flourishing around

My garden well beseems;
Which cannot prove a barren ground,

Amidst such living streams.
Thy plants of grace do parallel

An orchard rich with trees;
Sweet, to delight the taste and smell ;

Fair to falute the eyes.
Here 'granates young, and camphire grow;

Here spice and incense bloom,
'Nard, cinnamon, myrrh, aloes blow

With gales a rich perfume.
Here nuin'rous plants with fragrant scent,

And odours most refin'd;
All in their nature excellent,

And various in their kind.

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Thy blooming plants of grace display

A heav'nly foil and air;
And sap divine, which I convey,

Makes all the planting fair.
Wild nature's foil could ne'er produce

Such trees as here do stand
For special pleasure, special use,

All planted by my hand.

Verse 15. A fountain of gardens, a well of living wa

ters, and streams from Lebanon.

Thy pleasant garden's blooming plants

All others far excel;
For Heav'n, to thine indulgent, grants

Streams of salvation's well.
This fountain open, full, and nigh,

Makes plants their vigour yield ;
Yea, neighb'ring gardens does supply,

And each adjacent field.
Thy graces frank their juice convey,

Not dript as shallow pails;
But living springs, that night and day

Flow to refresh the vales.
Such is thy lib'ral flowing mind;

Nor are with penury
Thy blessings to thy banks confind,

But common as the sea.
My quick’ning Spirit, freely shed,

That Zion's banks may flow,
The river is, whose streams do glad,

And makes the planting grow.
The well of water here runs o'er,

The current to maintain ;
With hasty course to endless glore,

As rivers to the main.
Not Jordan swellid from Lebanon

So stoutly rolls his tide ;
As crystal rivers from the throne

Thro' Zion's vallies glide.

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