Thou nothing giv'st to Him, He gave all things To thee, and made thee like the King of Kings: His love the fountain is of Heaven and Earth, The cause of all thy joy and mirth. IX Thy love is nothing but itself, and yet So infinite is His that He doth set A value infinite upon it. Oh! This, canst thou careless be, and know! X Let that same goodness, which being infinite, Esteems thy love with infinite delight, Tho' less than His, tho' nothing, always be An object infinite to thee. XI And as it is the cause of all esteem, Of all the worth which in thy love doth seem, So let it be the cause of all thy pleasure, Causing its being and its treasure. LOVE I O nectar! O delicious stream! O ravishing and only pleasure! Where Shall such another theme Inspire my tongue with joys or please mine ear! Abridgment of delights! And queen of sights! O mine of rarities! O Kingdom wide! O more! O cause of all! O glorious Bride! O God! O Bride of God! O King! O soul and crown of everything! II Did not I covet to behold Some endless monarch, that did always live In palaces of gold, Willing all kingdoms, realms, and crowns to give Unto my soul! Whose love A spring might prove Of endless glories, honors, friendships, pleasures, Joys, praises, beauties and celestial treasures! Lo, now I see there's such a King, The fountain-head of everything! III Did my ambition ever dream Of such a Lord, of such a love! Did I Expect so sweet a stream As this at any time! Could any eye Believe it? Why all power Is used here; Joys down from Heaven on my head do shower, And Jove beyond the fiction doth appear Once more in golden rain to come To Danæ's pleasing fruitful womb. IV His Ganimede! His life! His Joy! Or He comes down to me, or takes me up That I might be His boy, And fill, and taste, and give, and drink the cup. But those (tho' great) are all Too short and small, Too weak and feeble pictures to express The true mysterious depths of Blessedness. I am His image, and His friend, His son, bride, glory, temple, end. THOUGHTS.--I I