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 through the Vsle of Flesh I see
With Eyes of Love he looks at me;
Now in the Gospel's clearest Glass
He shews 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 win'try 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 we hear our Jesus say,
Rise up, my Love, make haste away!
Our Hearts would fain out-fly the Wind,
And leave all earthly Loves behind.