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A book for boys and girls

or, Country Rhimes for Children. By J. B. [John Bunyan]

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LVIII. Of the Spouse of Christ.
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LVIII. Of the Spouse of Christ.

VVho's this that cometh from the Wilderness,
Like Smoaky Pillars, thus perfumed with Myrrhe
Leaning upon her dearest in Distress,
Led into's Bosom, by the Comforter?

65

She's clothed with the Sun, crown'd with twelve Stars,
The spotted Moon her Footstool he hath made.
The Dragon her assaults, fills her with Jarrs,
Yet rests she under her Beloved's Shade.
But whence was she? what is her Pedigree?
Was not her Father, a poor Amorite?
What was her Mother, but as others be,
A poor, a wretched and sinful Hittite!
Yea, as for her, the day that she was born,
As loathsome, out of doors, they did her cast;
Naked, and Filthy, Stinking, and forlorn:
This was her Pedigree from first to last.
Nor was she pittied in this Estate;
All let her lie polluted in her Blood:
None her Condition did commiserate,
Their was no Heart that sought to do her good.
Yet she unto these Ornaments is come,
Her Breasts are fashioned, her Hair is grown;
She is made Heiress of the best Kingdom;
All her Indignities away are blown.
Cast out she was, but now she home is taken,
Naked (sometimes) but now you see she's clo'd;
Now made the Darling, though before forsaken,
Bare-foot, but now, as Princes Daughters, shod.
Instead of Filth, she now has her Perfumes,
Instead of Ignominy. her Chains of Gold:
Instead of what the Beauty most consumes,
Her Beauty's perfect, lovely to behold.
Those that attend, and wait upon her, be
Princes of Honour, cloth'd in white Aray;

65

Upon her Head's a Crown of Gold, and she
Eats Wheat, Honey, and Oil, from day to day.
For her Beloved, he's the High'st of all,
The only Potentate, the King of Kings:
Angels, and Men, do him Jehovah call,
And from him, Life, and Glory, always springs.
He's white, and ruddy, and of all the Chief;
His Head, his Locks, his Eyes, his Hands, and Feet,
Do for Compleatness out-go all Belief;
His checks like Flowers are, his Mouth's most sweet.
As for his Wealth he is made Heir of all,
What is in Heav'n, what is on Earth, is his:
And he this Lady, his Joynt-Heir, doth call,
Of all that shall be, or at present is.
Well Lady, well, God has been good to thee,
Thou, of an Out-cast, now art made a Queen.
Few or none may with thee compared be;
A Beggar made thus high is seldome seen.
Take heed of Pride, remember what thou art,
By Nature, tho thou hast in Grace a share:
Thou in thy self doth yet retain a part
Of thine own Filthiness, wherefore beware.