3 [In vineyards planted by his hand,
Where fruitful trees in order stand;
He feeds among the spicy beds,
Where lilies shew their spotless heads.
4 He has engross'd my warmest love,
No earthly charms my soul can move:
I have a mansion in his heart,
Nor death nor hell shall make us part.]
5 [He takes my soul ere I'm aware,
And shews me where his glories are;
No chariot of Amminadib
The heavenly rapture can describe.
6 O may my spirit daily rise
On wings of faith above the skies,
Till death shall make my last remove
To dwell for ever with my love.]
Hymn 1:77.
The love of Christ to the church, in his language to
her, and provisions for her, Cant. 7. 5 6 9 12 13.
1 Now in the galleries of his grace
Appears the King, and thus he says,
"How fair my saints are in my sight;
"My love how pleasant for delight!"
2 Kind is thy language, sovereign Lord,
There's heavenly grace in every word:
From that dear mouth a stream divine
Flows sweeter than the choicest wine.
3 Such wondrous love awakes the lip
Of saints that were almost asleep,
To speak the praises of thy name,
And makes our cold affections flame.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73