As the Hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soule after thee O God.
1
How shall my tongue espresse that hallow'd fire
Which heav'n has kindled in my ravisht heart!
What Muse shall I invoke, that will inspire
My lowly Quill to act a lofty part!
What Art shall I devise t'expresse desire,
Too intricate to be exprest by Art!
Let all the nine be silent; I refuse
Their aid in this high task, for they abuse
The flames of Love too much: Assist me Davids Muse.
2
Not as the thirsty soyle desire soft showres,
To quicken and refresh her Embrion graine;
Nor as the drooping Crests of fading flowres
Request the bounty of a morning Raine,
Do I desire my GOD: These, in few houres,
Re-wish, what late their wishes did obtaine,
But as the swift-foot Hart, does, wounded, flie
To th'much desired streames, ev'n so do I
Pant after Thee, my GOD, whom, I must find, or die.
3
Before a Pack of deep-mouth'd Lusts I flee;
O, they have singled out my panting heart,
And wanton Cupid, sitting in a Tree,
Hath pierc'd my bosome with a flaming dart;
My soule being spent, for refuge, seeks to Thee,
But cannot find where Thou my refuge art:
Like as the swift-foot Hart does, wounded, flie
To the desired streames, ev'n so do I
Pant after Thee, my GOD, whom I must find, or die.
4
At length, by flight, I over-went the Pack;
Thou drew'st the wanton dart from out my wound;
The blood, that follow'd, left a purple track,
Which brought a Serpent, but in shape, a Hound;
We strove; He bit me; but thou brak'st his back,
I left him grov'ling on th'envenom'd ground;
But as the Serpent-bitten Hart does flie
To the long-long'd for streames, ev'n so did I
Pant after Thee, my GOD, whom I must find or die.
5
If lust should chafe my soule, made swift by fright,
Thou art the streames where to my soule is bound:
Or if a Jav'lin wound my sides, in flight,
Thou art the Balsom, that must cure my wound:
If poyson chance t'infest my soule, in sight,
Thou art the Treacle that must make me sound;
Ev'n as the wounded Hart, embost, does flie
To th'streames extremely long'd for, so do I
Pant after Thee, my GOD, whom I must find, or die.
CYRIL. lib. 5 in Joh. Cap. 10.
O precious water, which quenches the noysome thirst of this world, that
scoures all the staines of sinners; that waters the earth of our soules with
heavenly showers, and brings backe the thirsty heart of man to his onely God!
S. AUGUST. Soliloq. 35.
O fountaine of life, and veine of living waters, when shall I leave this
forsaken, impassible, and dry earth, and taste the waters of thy sweetnesse,
that I may behold thy vertue, and thy glory, and slake my thirst with the
streames of thy mercy? Lord, I thirst: Thou art the spring of life, satisfie me;
I thirst, Lord, I thirst after thee the living God.
