1 The Voice of my Beloved sounds,
Over the Rocks and rising Grounds,
O'er Hills of Guilt, and Seas of Grief
He leaps, He flies to my Relief.
2 Now thro' the Veil of Flesh I see
With Eyes of Love He looks at me;
Now in the Gospel's clearest Glass
He shows the Beauties of his Face.

3 Gently He draws my Heart along,
Both with his Beauties and his Tongue:
"Rise," saith my Lord, "make haste away,
"No mortal Joys are worth thy Stay.
4 "The Jewish wintry State is gone,
"The Mists are fled, the Spring comes on;
"The sacred Turtle-Dove we hear
"Proclaim the new, the joyful Year.

5 "Th' immortal Vine of heavenly Root
Blossoms and buds, and gives her Fruit."
Lo, we are come to taste the Wine;
Our Souls rejoice, and bless the Vine.
6 And when I hear our Jesus say,
"Rise up, my Love, make haste away"?
My Heart would fain out-fly the Wind,
And leave all earthly Loves behind.