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

The Churche beholdeth Christ, and would gladly receyue hym, for her soule deliteth in his dewy head, but her flesh can not away with the nyghtdroppyng heares, which caused her as though she had ben perfect, to reason with Christ, and to thynke that he woulde haue her put on her coate agayne, whan as in dede he woulde haue her cum naked to put on the coat whiche he wyll geue her. Thus is the poore churche deceyued through frayltie of the flesh: whiche he consyderyng and seyng the dore shut, that is the spirite so hyndred in carnal iudgement, that she can not receyue hym, thrusteth in his hande, that is his power, grace, and helpe, through the hole

of the dore, that is the eleccion whiche remayneth in olde Adam the dore of the flesshe, whiche through his grace he openeth. Whiche the Spouse felyng, confesseth: syngyng.

My Loue dyd put his hande of myght,
In to my hole of fleshly sence:
Whereby myne inwarde partes outryght
Dyd swel and ryse, through influence
Of grace.

Than vp I rose with diligence
To open that he mought cum in
Whome I doe loue, by whome my sence
Of fleshly wit was made so thin.
By grace.

No sooner I vp risen was
But that my handes (fast shut before)
Dyd drop with Mirrhe, good wurkes did passe
My fyngers from styll more and more
By grace.

The doar bar eke that made me slacke
To let hym in that knocked fast
My carnal sence I thrust abacke:
But Christe before was goen and past,
Helas.

As soone as my Beloued spake,
My soule to search hym waxed meke:
My soule long hyd, his voyce dyd make
From flesh to flee, his helpe to seke
Apace.

I sought hym long but coulde not fynde;
I called hym, he answered not:
Awhyle he left me to my mynde,
Because at fyrst I opened not.
Helas.

The tyrauntes that the citie watche
False Prelates whiche the truth confounde,
That sought for Christe poore me dyd catche,
And stroke therfore, and dyd me wounde
Helas.

The kepers of the cursed wall,
Suche rites as truthles men deuise:
By force dyd take my cloke and all,
Because I dyd theyr wurkes dispise,
Helas.

Ye daughters of Ierusalem,
Ye faythfull preachers of the wurd,
Whiche preache Gods truthes, and folow them,
That stryke with his two edged swurd
By grace:

I charge you yf ye chaunce to fynde
Christe my Beloued that dwelles aboue,
Ye shew hym how sore I in mynde
Am sycke, and languish whole for loue
Of grace.