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16 Then let all Jesus seek, and burn

With Heavenly Love, in Loves return:

The Savour of his Ointments drawing,

And his All-Clement Sceptre Awing.

Ah! me, sweet Jesu, let me prove

The force of thy Exstatick Love.

Whose longing Eyes are waiting Thee

Inthron'd in Glory high to see.

Tho Worthily I cannot Name Thee,

cannot chuse yet but proclaim Thee.

For boyling Love oft makes us bold,

Breaks way and runs like Molten Gold

Thy Love, thy Self, O Jesu blest,

Is our true Food, and Heavenly Feast.

Where Appetites nor cloy nor tire;

But fill'd of Thee have fresh Desire.

Thou art when sounding in our Ears

The Musick of the Heavenly Spheres:

Ith' Mouth Heaven's Virgin Honey art,

And Heavenly Nectar in the Heart.

Ah! bless'd expert of Joys Divine,

Inebriate with the Kingdoms Wine

So Rapt their Jesus to admire,

That of all else they've lost Desire.

My Soul each Moment thee requires,

To ease my Languors, quench my Fires:

And still what Transport when I find,

And Thee in warm Embraces bind!

Now, now I see what I Admire;

My Arms Inlock my Lifes Desire.