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Of the Soul’s Complaint, of the Garden, and of the New Song.


“When mine eyes are dim with weeping,

And my tongue with grief is dumb;

And it is as if Thou wert sleeping

When my heart calleth, ‘Come;’

When I hunger with bitter hunger,

O Lord, for Thee.

Where art Thou, then, Belovèd?

Speak, speak to me.”

“I am where I was in the ancient days,

I in Myself must be;

In all things I am, and in every place,

For there is no change in Me.

Where the sun is My Godhead, throned above,88See Isaiah lx. 19, 20, as explaining this thought: “The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory. Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.”

For thee, O Mine own, I wait;

I wait for thee in the garden of love,

Till thou comest irradiate

With the light that shines from My Face divine,

And I pluck the flowers for thee;

They are thine, belovèd, for they are Mine,

And thou art one with Me.

In the tender grass by the waters still,

I have made thy resting-place;

Thy rest shall be sweet in My holy will,

And sure in My changeless grace.

And I bend for thee the holy Tree,

Where blossoms the mystic Rod;

The highest of all the trees that be

In the Paradise of God.

And thou of that Tree of life shalt eat,

Of the Life that is in Me;

Thou shalt feed on the fruit that is good for meat,

And passing fair to see.

There overshadowed by mighty wings

Of the Holy Spirit’s peace,

Beyond the sorrow of earthly things,

The toil and the tears shall cease.

And there beneath the eternal Tree,

I will teach thy lips to sing

The sweet new song that no man knows

In the land of his banishing.

They follow the Lamb where’er He goes,

To whom it is revealed;

The pure and the undefiled are those,

The ransomed and the sealed.

Thou shalt learn the speech and the music rare,

And thou shalt sing as they,

Not only there in My garden fair,

But here, belovèd, to-day.”

“O Lord, a faint and a feeble voice

Is mine in this house of clay,

But Thy love hath made my lips rejoice,

And I can sing and say,

‘I am pure, O Lord, for Thou art pure,

Thy love and mine are one;

And my robe is white, for Thine is white,

And brighter than the sun.

Thy mouth and mine can know no moan,

No note of man’s sad mirth,

But the everlasting joy alone,

Unknown to songs of earth;

And for ever fed on that living Tree,

I will sing the song of Thy love with Thee.’”

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