xlix. Christe to his Spouse.
The argument.
Whan
Christe hath magnified his Spouse with no lyttle
cōmendacion, yet is he not satisfied: but that the yonglynges
maye lyke her the better, procedeth farther, comparyng
her to the mornyng, to the sunne, to the moone, and to a
banner: and as it were wundryng at her excellencie, singeth.
VVhat one is she so lyke the morow bryght,
Whiche yet doeth lacke the fulnes of my lyght,
Whiche she hereafter shall receyue
In glory?
Who lyke the Moone is pleasaunt to the syght,
My Moone I meane, my truth that shynes by nyght.
Whiche doeth of me her lyght receyue,
In glory?
Yea what is she so lyke the Sunne elect:
Lyke me the Sunne, chief of the chosen sect,
Whiche shyne aboue with my father,
In glory?
Yea what is she so dreadfull to beholde,
Whiche on my wurd doeth bear her selfe so bolde,
Styll standyng styffe lyke a banner,
In glory?
