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Christ speaketh to the Church. COME, 1 wend unto my garden gay, | |
| My sister and my spowse: | |
| For I haue gathered mirre with spice, | |
| And other goodly bowes. | |
| I meane to eate my honnye, and | 5 |
| My honny-combe so sweete; | |
| And I will drinke my wyne and milke, | |
| For so it seemeth meete. | |
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Christ to the Apostles. Eat now, my frinds, do nothing spare, | |
| But be of perfect cheare: | 10 |
| And drink with mirth; for you of me | |
| Are sure beloued deare. | |
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The Voice of the Church. As I laye in a slombring sleepe, | |
| But being wake in mynde, | |
| I heard my true loue speake and knocke, | 15 |
| And all was me to fynde. | |
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Christe to the Churche. Open me the gates, said he, | |
| My sister and my loue, | |
| My darling and my harts desyre, | |
| My onely Turtle-doue. | 20 |
| For why? my heade is full of dewe, | |
| And so are all my lockes | |
| Bedecked well in comely wise | |
| With these benighted drops. | |
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The Voice of the Spouses. I haue put off my coat; how can | 25 |
| I put it on againe? | |
| And if I fyle my washed feete, | |
| Then washt I them in vaine. | |
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The Voice of the Church speaking of Christe. But when my loue put in his hande, | |
| Then was my heart so prest | 30 |
| To him, that I was moued much, | |
| And tooke but little rest. | |
| So that I stoode up by aud by, | |
| To open him the doore: | |
| But then my handes coulde drop with myrre, | 35 |
| As was not seene before: | |
| Which myrre ran down my fingers fast, | |
| When they were on the lock, | |
| When I was opening him the dore, | |
| That there before did knocke. | 40 |
| But when to my Beloued I | |
| The doore had opened wyde, | |
| He was departed thence away, | |
| And gone his wayes asyde. | |
| And nowe, as he before did speake, | 45 |
| When I coulde not refraine, | |
| So now I sought him mournfullye, | |
| But found him not againe. | |
| And then I cryed after him | |
| As one that was forsake, | 50 |
| And listened still, but answere none | |
| Woulde he unto me make. | |