Classic Poem

The soull admiring Christ longs to be with him.

Come now my soull, let Loose on Christ
thou needst not fear excese
When thy afections ar att high'st
his love deserves no lese

Oh that, I still could gaze upon
His transendant beauty
For like unto him, ther is none
That can soe take, the eye.

Hee doth all others far excell
cheif of ten thousand hee
Oh take me, up with thee to dwell
that I may veiw, and see.

Tis he is altogather sweet
sweetnese in the abstract
All creture, beauty, that shall fleet
but his shall still. atract.

His mouth's like the best wine, causing
even, the lips of those
That ar asleep, to speak, and sing
he's Sharons, sweetest, Rose.

A glance from Christ soe takes the hart
that fain, it would be gone
It cant endure, to live apart
t'would break through to the throne.

Thy love is better, then chouce wine
It doth procure our growth
I cant but love, thy name devine
an oyntment, poured forth

What the lovesick soull somtimes feels
makes it cry out again
Why tarieth, his Char'ot wheels
why run they not amain.

It counts the days, and alsoe hours
with sweet impatience
Longing to win, the holy towers
where dwells omnipotence.

Thy time is best, though it be long
yet give me leave to moane
I will not say, thy ways ar wrong
thou yet, I get not home.

Oh give me, leave to long, & wait
and joy to see time run
And speedyly wear, out of date
that I may see the sun.

Oh pity Lord a lovesick soull
that cannot be content
Untill it have a fuller dole
from god, omnipotent

Oh my beloved, now make hast
be like to the young hart
Or Roe, upon the mountains wast
let time, no Longer part.

The wintor shall be shortly past
the rain, over and gone
Our Jesus cometh, runing fast
he is, my only one.

My Lovesick fits thou'lt overlook
love makes me, long to dye
Love errours, thou wilt not down book
Thy love will pase them by

Thou wilt take pity on a worm
when scorched, with thy fire
And give me leave, to sigh, & mourn
till I have my desire.

Which is to be engulph'd in love
intwisted in thine armes
Safe lodged with thy self above
free from all sinfull harms.

Let Christ, & my poor, longing soull
Be handfasted togather
For after him, it still doth prole
it can live on no-other.

Meane time let beames of glory dart
upon me, day by day
Th' outflowings of thy love impart
Whilst I am in my way