2 My best beloved keeps his throne
On hills of light in worlds unknown
But he descends, and shews his face
In the young gardens of his grace.
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.
4 These are the joys he lets us know
In fields and villages below,
Gives us a relish of his love,
But keeps his noblest feast above.