My Beloved, haste away

Verse 1

My Beloved! haste away, Sick of Love, for thee I languish; Fails my Soul at thy Delay, Feels a dying Lover's Anguish: Quickly, quickly, Jesus come, O make my Breast thy native Home.

Verse 2

Ev'ry Moment seems an Age, 'Till thy Presence shall relive me, 'Till thy Smiles my Woes assuage, And thine Absence no more grieve me: Quickly, quickly, Jesus come, O make my Breast thy native Home.

Verse 3

Great the Force and Power of Live, Whence springs all my strong Desires; I, thy Presence, Lord, to prove, Burn, consum'd, with inward Fires: Quickly, quickly, Jesus come, O make my Breast thy native Home.

Verse 4

Honour, Wealth, and Ease I scorn, Trifles by the World approv'd; To superior Joys I'm born, Cent'ring in my Well-belov'd: Quickly, quickly, Jesus come, O make my Breast thy native Home.

Verse 5

O'er the spicy Mountains fly, Hart and Roe, yea Winds out-stripping; Whilst thou tarry'st, Love, I die, Sighing, longing, loving, weeping; Quickly, quickly, Jesus come, O make my Breast thy native Home.