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Ver. 14. His bands are as gold rings set with the

beryl: bis * belly is as bright ivory overlaid with

Sapphires.
His hands are fairer to behold,

Though once nail'd to the tree,
Than beryls set in rings of gold;

So rich in bounty's he.
His operations mighty, vast,

No mortal underliands;
For all the works of God have past

Through these his precious hands.
No iv'ry fine so bright is found

With fapphires overlaid,
As bowels of compaflion round

Do gild his pierced fide.
The love about his heart that twines

Still firm, without decay,
In instances unnumber'd thines

With sparkling bright array.

Verse 15. His legs are os pillars of marble, set upon

Sockets of fine gold. His countenance is as Lebanon,

excellent as ibe cedars.
His legs like marble pillars stand

On golden sockets fine ;
So firm's the throne of his command,

So ev'n his paths divine.
His stately steps, his steady way,

His ftable kingdom, proves
He's folid gold, not mould'ring clay

Like fading mortal loves.
His countenance more lofty is

Than Lebanon by far;
More excellent than all its trees

And stately cedars are.
So high, so eminent is he,

That in his person thine The glories of the Deity,

With majesty divine. * Heb. bowels, the faine word as in verse 4.

Verse 16. His mouth is most sweet : yea, be is * alto

gether lovely.--
Lo! his blest mouth, that once did taste

The bitter gall for me,
With charms divinely sweet is grac'd,

Unto the last degree.
Grace pour'd into his lips, alway

Does thence so sweely run;
They share the Father's grace for ay

Who do but kiss the Son.
His mouth a triple heav'n imports,

A word, a smile, a kifs ;
A triple doom to dash their sports

Whose lips profane the bliss.
How hard, though sweet, this limning talk!

I faint; I must fuccomb;
He is (if what he is, you ask)

All over loves, in sum.
How weak my tongue his glory sings,

Which drowns seraphic art;
He's all disiderable things,

And charms in ev'ry part. Adoring heav'ns his name confess

The infinite unknown,
And in created human dress

The uncreated One.
Their tongues that do his glory speak,

In loud and lofty lays,
For higher notes are still to seek,

And never reach his praise.
I wrong his name with words fo faint,

Nor half his worth declare ;
Can finite pencils ever paint

The infinitely fair ?

This is my Beloved ; tbis is my Friend, O daughters

of Jerusalem.

He is all desires

A

My union to his perfon dear

Bears such fubitantial bliss;
All mortal loves and friendship here

Are but the shade of this.
Whatever sweet relations be

'Mong creatures great or small, There's infinite disparity

Between him and them all.
Yet how much in himself he is,

So much is he to me;
For he is mine, and I am his,

And evermore shall be.
The more I hold his glory forth,

Or would his name unfold;
The niore incomparable worth

I still in him behold.
Now this, O Salem's progeny,

This is my love, my friend;
Search heav'n and earth but sure am I

His match you'll never find.
Your quellion far exceeds my reach,

What's thy Belov'd ? said he :
His praise defeats my fault'ring speech;

But, pray you, Come and fee.

CH A P. VI. The Church professeth her Faith in Curist.--Christ

Theweth the Graces of the Church, and his Love towards her.

The COMPANIONS Words. Verse 1. Ibitber is thy Beloved gone, O thou fairejo

among women ? wbither is iby Beloved gone afide ?

that we may seek bim with thee. SUCH glorious things are told by thee

About thy matchless mate; His seekers too we fain would be,

And share thy happy state.

Thy holy walk and talk is such,

Thy countenance fo fair ;
We think whom thou commend it so much

Must be beyond compare.
O where is thy Beloved gone !

Thou fairelt of thy kind?
So happy in that glorious One

On whom thou set'st thy mind?
Where is he gone? pray let us know

What place frequents he most ? That we in quest of him may go,

Nor find our travel loft.

Tbe Church's Words. Verse 2. My Beloved is gone down into bis garden, to ibe

beds of Jpices, to feed in the gardens, and to gatber'

lilies. Lo! my Belov'd, though he enthron'd

In glory keeps his place,
Yet here below is to be found

In gardens of his grace.
He plants, he waters every tree,

His blessing makes thein spring ;
Then gladly comes he down to see

What rich increase thy bring.
He walks among the spicy beds,

Where aromatics flow;
And in his young plantation feeds,

Where fruits delicious grow.
He gathers there his chosen crop

Of lilies without toil;
And, when full ripe, he picks them up,

To deck his fairer foil.
Th’assemblies of his growing faints

Are still his chief repair :
Whoe'er his gracious presence wants,

May seek with success there. Verse 3. I am my Beloved's, and any Beloved is mine : be seedetb am:013 tbe lilies *.

See this more largely explained, Chap. ii. 16.

Though now my Lord from me abscond,

Yet judge him not unkind :
In's temple oft I have him found,

And hope again to find.
And, though from me to fenfe he hides,

My faith holds fast his name:
Mine int’rest in him firm abides,

I will not quit my claim.
He has my warmest love ingroft,

And I possess his heart;
His love and mine unite, I boast,

Nor death nor hell can part.
The bond of love so firm abides,

Ev’n in the darkest day,
That, though behind the shade he hides,

He's never far away.
Though he his noblest table spreads

Among his flow'rs above;
Yet here amidst his lily. beds

He keeps his feasts of love.
The ordinances of his grace

Are fields of his repair ;
There I have seen his glorious face,
And you may see him there.

Christ's Words.
Ver. 4. Tbou art beautiful, O my Love, as Tirzab,comely

as Jerusalem, terrible as an army wiib banners. How comely is the bride, I fee,

Who thus mine absence wail'd, And kindly thought and spoke of me

Ev’n when my face was vail'd!
Thy zeal for me when I withdrew,

I highly must approve ;
And now return to thee, to fhew

My great respect and love.
I did forgive, and have forgot,

All thine infirmities :
Thy holy foul, from sin remote,

Is beauteous in mine eyes.

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