University of Virginia Library

The Search.

Whither, oh! whither is my Lord departed?
What can my Love, that is so tender hearted,
Forsake the soule which once he thorow darted,
As though it never smarted?
No sure, my Love is here, if I could finde him:
He that fils all can leave no place behinde him.
But oh! my sences are too weak to winde him,
Or else I doe not minde him.
Oh! no, I mind him not so as I ought;
Nor seek him so as I by him was sought,
When I had lost my selfe; he dearely bought
Me that was sould for nought.
But I have wounded him, that made me sound;
Lost him againe, by whom I first was found;
Him, that exalted me, have cast to th'ground:
My sinnes his bloud have drown'd.

22

Tell me, oh! tell me (thou alone canst tell)
Lord of my life, where thou art gone to dwell:
For in thy absence heaven it selfe is hell;
Without thee none is well.
Or if thou beest not gone, but onely hidest
Thy presence in the place where thou abidest;
Teach me the sacred art, which thou providest
For all them whom thou guidest,
To seek and finde thee by: Else here I'le lye,
Vntill thou finde me. If thou let me dye
That onely unto thee for life doe cry,
Thou dyest as well as I.
For if thou live in me, and I in thee,
Then either both alive or dead must be:
At least, I'le lay my death on thee, and see
If thou wilt not agree.
For though thou be the judge thy selfe, I have
Thy promise for it which thou canst not wave,
That who salvation at thy hands doe crave,
Thou wilt not faile to save.
Oh! seek and finde me then, or else deny
Thy truth, thy selfe. Oh! thou that canst not lye
Shew thy selfe constant to thy word, draw nigh;
Finde me. Loe, here I lye.