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O may my heart the centre prove

Of thy affections keen ;
Thy heart the centre of my love,

And nought to interveen.
-For love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the

grave :
Strong wings of holy love aloft

Bear up my soul afresh,
Which in sweet raptures dying foft

Forgets the clog of flesh.
While thus my heart does mounting fly,

On this seraphic wing,
In love to thee I kindly die

To ev'ry mortal thing.
As thy strong love, O Lord, to me,

Could conquer death and dread;
So does my ardent love to thee

The pow'r of death exceed. It kills me, Lord; I can't refift

This strong desire of mine : If not with satisfaction bleft,

To death, to death I pine.
Admit, me Lord, into thy heart,

Left my heart jealous be,
That either thine from me depart,

Or mine depart from thee.
Such jealousy would fore torment,

And torture me to death;
Like the devouring grave, intent

To stop my vital breath.

-The coals thereof are coals of fire, which have a more

pebement flame. Thefe jealous flames will quite consume

My soul, like burning fire;
Unless thy loving answer come

To suit my heart's desire
My flaming heart does bleed afresh,

If thou depart i'th'least;
Mine ardent zeal eats up my flesh,

Love-licknefs pains my breast.

The sparks of fervid love afcend

Like mounting flames on high ;
With veh’ment force they heav'nward bend,

And pierce the azure sky.
O let thy bowels, Lord, be mov'd

grant my heart's defire : I'd rather die than not be lov'd;

My heart is all on fire. Verse 7. Many waters cannot quench love, neitber can

the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of bis bouse for love, it would utterly be

No waves could quench thy love, which sat

As king upon the flood
Of rolling vengeance, vastly great,

And on a fea of blood.
Thus nor can many waters drown

My flaming love to thee ;
Nor torrents of turmoil + beat down

The zeal that burns in me.
In vain by flatt'ries, or by fears,

Do hell and earth combine
To quench the fire of love, that bears

A stamp so much divine.
Desertion black, nor dev'), nor man,

Nor air, nor earth, nor fea,
Nor life, nor death, nor angels can

Divorce my love from thee I.
Were wealth to bribe my love, I could

The golden bait disdain,
Like despicable dung that would

Invade my heart in vain.
I cast contempt on fuiters all,

That dare compete with thee;
And value thrones no more than thrall,

Should they thy rivals be.
Verse 8. f We bave a little fifter, and me bath no

breasts : what shall we do for our fifter, in the day

when she foall be spoken for ? + Bustle or stir. Sce Rom. vii. 359-39.

Since now, dear Lord, our mutual love

Is thus so deep impreft ;
May I this access sweet improve,

That others may be blest.
Our little fister, Lord, to wit,

A barren Gentile race,
With all uncall'd, unfav'd, as yet,

Though chosen by thy grace ;
She little knowledge hath, we see,

No fashion'd breasts of love ;
No principle of grace from thee,

Nor nurture from above :
No breasts of consolation sweet,

No word, no means of grace;
No warm milk of instruction meet

To feed her starving race.
What shall be done for her, I pray,

And for her progeny,
When they shall on the

Be call'd to match with thee?
What for our sister-church to come,

Which Jews or Greeks shall hatch; To bring her to the marriage-room, And carry on the match?

CHRIST's Words. Verre 9. If she be a wall, we will build upon ber a pa

lace of filver ; and if she be a door, we will inclose

ber with boards of cedar. Love, I'll inform thee what we'll do,

With this our sister dear,
When by the gospel-call I woo,

And speak into her ear.
If once the good work were begun,

As by my grace it shall ;
And the by faith on me alone

Built like a brazen wall:
We'll make the wall a work complete,

A silver palace fair *,
A temple for my holy Sp'rit
To dwell for ever there,

Plalm cxliv. 12.

If once I make her heart a door,

Wide ope to take me in;
We'll as with cedar-boards secure,

And strengthen her within.
We Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

Will frame, advance, and crown
The happy building, at our cost,

Which hell shall ne'er pull down.
Ev'n outcast Gentiles base, at length

The wond'ring world shall see
In num'rous issue, beauty, strength,

And grandeur rival thee.

The Church's Words. Verse 10. I am a wall, and my breafis like towers :

then was I in bis eyes as one that found favour. Kind Lord, how gladly do I hear

Thy promife made to me,
For elect filter-churches dear!

I roll their care on thee.
My sweet experience clears thou wilt

Thus kindly deal with them ;
For I'm a wall most firmly buile,

And rear'd upon thy name.
Thou mak'st my breasts of graces grow

Like iv'ry tow'rs so high ;
I trust what love to me dost show,

To them thou won't deny.
When grace my unbelief destroy'd,

And on my rock me fix’d;
Thy favour then my foul enjoy'd,

With sweet love-tokens mix'd.
Then did my life's department fhew

Thine image on my heart;
And thou thyself with pleasure view

The grace thou didft in part.
I'm joyful when to mind I do

These happy days recall;
By gaace was I built up, and so

My little filter shall.

+ D d


Verse 11. Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-bamon ; be

let out the vineyard unto keepers: every one for tbe fruit thereof was to bring a thousand pieces of filver. Another object of my care,

Beside our filter dear,
Is likewise, Lord, thy vineyard fair,

Already planted here.
Our Solomon, the Prince of peace,

A vineyard did possess,
And to a multitude did lease,

And let it out to dress.
At Baal-hamon, where he plants

Upon a fruitful foil,
And servants with commission grants

To keep it from turmoil.
He takes the care in chief, but they

An under-truft maintain;
He wakes and keeps it night and day,

Elle watchmen watch in vain *.
From ev'ry servant there employed

He still requires the rent
Of praise, for what they have enjoy'd,

And work to his content.
Each one for fruit that he assigns

Proportion'd tribute brings,
And renders for a thousand vines

A thousand silverlings to

CHRIST's Words.

Verse 12. My vineyard wbich is mine, is before me:-
My vineyard, Love, the object is

Of my peculiar care ;
My heart and eye is fix'd on this

More close than any-where.
'Tis mine by special right and grant,

By blood and conquest too; The state and case of ev'ry plant

Is always in my view. * Isaiah v. 17-4. Plalm cxxvii. 1.

+ Ilaiah vii, 23.

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