Divine Love's Rest

(Written on Herbert’s Poems.)

The am’rous needle knows: no othfer rest, But at its dear attractive loadstone Is breast. Though lying dead before the potent touch, Its object and affection were not such. The oily body married to a spark, Which some cold flint had lock’d up in the dark, By the unseen hot soul is made so bright, As if in it that soul appear’d to sight; Which in revenge for its restraint and toil, Still working upwards, wastes the loving oil; Having a higher love, is not content, Until it reach its proper element. Thus heav’n-born souls, but lately dead in sin; By faith and love the heavenly life begin: And daily mounting upwards, take their flight, From flesh and earth unto the world of light; Where darkness, sin, or grief shall never enter: Where all the saints are one in God, their centre. Where love reveals itself with open face, Ravishing souls prepared by saving grace.

Love is their kingdom it ’s a word of love,

Which they were hatch’d for by the holy dove.

Here he is kindling the celestial fire,

Which knows its rise, and doth to God aspire;

God who is all, shall there have all my store;

And yet my friends have not the less, but more:

Love is now panting, groaning in my breast.

Love will be then my soul’s eternal feast.

Love now salutes us in the gospel story:

But then eternal love will be our glory.

Up then, my soul, and swiftly heavenward tend,

Where love shall have no check, no bounds, no end.