Who is this fair one in
distress,
That travels from the
wilderness?
And pressed with sorrows and
with sins,
On her belovèd Lord she leans.
This is the spouse of Christ our
God,
Bought with the treasure of His
blood;
And her request and her
complaint
Is but the voice of every saint.
“O let my name engraven stand
Both on Thy heart and on Thy
hand;
Seal me upon Thine arm, and wear
That pledge of love for ever
there.
“Stronger than death Thy love
is known,
Which floods of wrath could
never drown;
And hell and earth in vain
combine
To quench a fire so much divine.
“But I am jealous of my
heart,
Lest it should once from Thee
depart;
Then let Thy Name be well
impressed,
As a fair signet on my breast.
“Till Thou hast brought me to
Thy home,
Where fears and doubts can never
come,
Thy countenance let me often
see,
And often Thou shalt hear from
me.
“Come, my Belovèd, haste
away,
Cut short the hours of Thy
delay;
Fly like a youthful hart or roe
Over the hills where spices
grow.”
