The canticles or Balades of Salomon :: :: University of Virginia Library

Christe seyng hys Spouse ready to ryse, encourageth her to make great haste: and exhortyng her to preache, declareth howe bothe the tyme and place is nowe fit therefore, openly syngyng.

Of vnbelefe now is cowlde wynter past,
The stormes lykewyse of blyndnes, and of trust
In mannes deuice, the whiche dyd ouercast
The truth, are goen: are knowen to be but rust.

And loe the flowers of faythful men and iust
In the erth, our lande, in beautie bud and bloome:
So that the tyme for whiche thou long didst lust,
The syngyng tyme, the tyme to preache is cum.

The turtles voyce, the voyce of the holy gost,
The wurd of God sincerely as it ought
Was heard abrode in our landes litle coast,
And as it shoulde, effectually hath wrought.

The fygtree loe, her blossomes furth hath brought,
The budded vines haue yelded out theyr smel:
The faythfull folke to whom my truth was tought,
In fayth and wurkes, excedyngly excell.

Aryse therfore my spouse, my special Loue,
Make haste, make spede, purely my wurde to preache:
And cum to me, cum, cum to me my doue,
To whome I geue myne holy goste to teache.

Cum to the Rocke, to me thy stedy leache,
Cum to the hoales, the merites of my death:
Cum to the hyd degrees of fayth, that reache
To perfectnes, assisted by my breath.

Then turne to me thy face, and let me hear
Thy voyce aloude, lyke thunder in the ayer.
Thy preachyng voyce is pleasaunt to myne ear,
And in myne iye thy face is very fayer.