I sing the Name which None can
But touch’t with An interiour Ray:
The Name of our New Peace; our Good:
Our Blisse: and Supernaturall Blood:
The Name of All our Lives and Loves.
Hearken,
And Help, ye holy Doves!
The high-born Brood of Day; you
Candidates of blissefull Light,
The Heirs Elect of Love; whose Names
Unto The everlasting life of Song;
All ye wise Soules, who in the wealthy
Of This unbounded Name build your warm Nest.
Awake,
My glory.
Soul, (if such thou be,
And That fair Word at all referr to Thee)Awake and
And be All Wing;
Bring hither thy whole Self; and let me
What of thy Parent Heaven yet speakes in thee,
O thou art
Of noble Powres,
I see,
And full of nothing else but empty Me,
Narrow, and low, and infinitely
Then this Great mornings mighty Busynes.
One little World or two(Alas) will never doe.
We must have store.
Goe,
Soul, out of thy Self, and seek for More.
Goe and
Great Nature for the Key of her huge
Of Heavns, the self involving Sett of Sphears(Which dull mortality more Feeles then heares)Then rouse the
Of nimble,
Art, and traverse
The Aiery Shop of soul-appeasing Sound:
And beat a summons in the
All-soveraign
To warn each severall
And shape of sweetnes,
Be they
As sigh with supple
Or answer Artfull Touch,
That they convene and come
To wait at the love-crowned Doores
This Illustrious Day.
Shall we dare This, my Soul? we’l doe’t and
No Other note for’t, but the Name we sing.
Wake Lute and
And every sweet-lipp’t
That talkes with tunefull string;
Start into life,
And leap with
Into a hasty Fitt-tun’d Harmony.
Nor must you think it muchT’obey my bolder touch;
I have Authority in Love’s name to take
And to the worke of Love this morning wake you;
Wake;
In the
Of Him who never sleeps,
All Things that Are,
Or, what’s the same,
Are Musicall;
Answer my
And come along;
Help me to meditate mine Immortall Song.
Come, ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth,
Bring All your houshold stuffe of Heavn on earth;
O you, my Soul’s most certain Wings,
Complaining Pipes, and prattling Strings,
Bring All the
Of Sweets you have;
And murmur that you have no more.
Come, né to part,
Nature and Art!
Come; and come strong,
To the conspiracy of our Spatious song.
Bring All the Powres of
Your Provinces of well-united Worlds can raise;
Bring All your Lutes and Harps of Heaven and Earth;
What ére cooperates to The common
Vessells of vocall Ioyes,
Or You, more noble Architects of Intellectuall Noise,
Cymballs of Heav’n, or Humane sphears,
Solliciters of Soules or Eares;
And when you’are come, with
That you can bring or we can call;
O may you
For ever here, and
Your selves into the
And everlasting series of a deathlesse Song;
Mix All your many Worlds,
Above,
And loose them into One of Love.
Chear thee my Heart!
For Thou too hast thy
And Place in the Great
Of This unbounded All-imbracing Song.
Powres of my Soul, be Proud!
And speake
To All the dear-bought Nations This Redeeming Name,
And in the wealth of one Rich Word
New Similes to Nature.
May it be no
Blest Heavns, to you, and your Superiour song,
That we, dark Sons of Dust and Sorrow,
A while Dare
The Name of Your Dilights and our Desires,
And fitt it to so farr inferior Lyres.
Our Murmurs have their Musick too,
Ye mighty Orbes, as well as you,
Nor yeilds the noblest
Of warbling Seraphim to the eares of Love,
A choicer Lesson then the joyfull
Of a poor panting Turtle-Dove.
And we, low Wormes have leave to
The Same bright Busynes (ye Third Heavens) with you.
Gentle Spirits, doe not complain.
We will have
To keep it fair,
And send it back to you again.
Come, lovely Name!
Appeare from forth the
Regions of peacefull Light,
Look from thine own Illustrious Home,
Fair King of Names, and come.
Leave All thy native Glories in their Georgeous Nest,
And give thy Self a while The gracious
Of humble Soules, that seek to
The hidden
Which man’s heart
When Thou art Master of the Mind.
Come, lovely Name; life of our hope!
Lo we hold our Hearts wide ope!
Unlock thy Cabinet of
Dearest Sweet, and come away.
Lo how the thirsty
Gasp for thy Golden Showres! with longstretch’t Hands.
Lo how the laboring
That hopes to
All Heaven by Thee,
Leapes at thy Birth.
The’ attending World, to wait thy Rise,
First turn’d to eyes;
And then, not knowing what to doe;
Turn’d Them to Teares, and spent Them too.
Come Royall Name, and pay the
Of all this Pretious Patience.
O come
And kill the Death of This Delay.
O see, so many Worlds of barren
Melted and measur’d out is Seas of Teares.
O see,
The Weary liddes of wakefull Hope(Love’s Eastern windowes) All wide
With Curtains drawn,
To catch The Day-break of Thy Dawn.
O dawn, at last, long look’t for Day!
Take thine own wings, and come away.
Lo, where Aloft it comes!
It comes,
The Conduct of Adoring Spirits, that
Like diligent Bees,
And swarm about it.
O they are wise;
And know what Sweetes are suck’t from out it.
It is the Hive,
By which they thrive,
Where All their Hoard of Hony lyes.
Lo where it comes, upon The snowy
Soft Back;
And brings a Bosom big with Loves.
Welcome to our dark world,
Womb of Day!
Unfold thy fair Conceptions;
And
The Birth of our Bright Ioyes.
O thou
Body of Blessings: spirit of Soules extracted!
O dissipate thy spicy Powres(Clowd of condensed sweets) and break upon
In balmy showrs;
O fill our senses,
And take from
All force of so Prophane a
To think ought sweet but that which smells of Thee.
Fair, flowry Name;
In none but
And Thy Nectareall Fragrancy,
Hourly there
An universall Synod of All sweets;
By whom it is defined
That no
For ever shall
To passe for Odoriferous,
But such alone whose sacred
Can prove it Self some kin (sweet name) to Thee.
Sweet Name, in Thy each SyllableA Thousand Blest Arabias dwell;
A Thousand Hills of Frankincense;
Mountains of myrrh, and Beds of species,
And ten Thousand Paradises,
The soul that tasts thee takes from thence.
How many unknown Worlds there
Of Comforts, which Thou hast in keeping!
How many Thousand Mercyes
In Pitty’s soft lap ly a sleeping!
Happy he who has the
To awake them,
And to take
Home, and lodge them in his Heart.
O that it were as it was wont to be!
When thy old Freinds of Fire,
All full of Thee,
Fought against Frowns with smiles; gave Glorious
To Persecutions;
And against the
Of Death and feircest Dangers, durst with
And sober pace march on to meet A Grave.
On their Bold Brests about the world they bore
And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee,
In Center of their inmost Soules they wore thee,
Where Rackes and Torments striv’d, in vain, to reach thee.
Little, alas, thought
Who tore the Fair Brests of thy Freinds,
Their Fury but made
For Thee;
And serv’d them in Thy glorious ends.
What did Their weapons but with wider
Inlarge thy flaming-brested
More freely to
That impatient
The Heart that hides Thee hardly covers.
What did their Weapons but sett wide the
For Thee:
Fair, purple Doores, of love’s devising;
The Ruby windowes which inrich’t the
Of Thy so oft repeated Rising.
Each wound of Theirs was Thy new Morning;
And reinthron’d thee in thy Rosy Nest,
With blush of thine own Blood thy day adorning,
It was the witt of love óreflowd the
Of Wrath, and made thee way through All Those wounds.
Wellcome dear,
All-Adored Name!
For sure there is no
That knowes not Thee.
Or if there be such sonns of shame,
Alas what will they
When stubborn Rocks shall
And Hills hang down their Heavn-saluting
To seek for humble
Of Dust, where in the Bashfull shades of
Next to their own low Nothing they may ly,
And couch before the dazeling light of thy dread majesty.
They that by Love’s mild Dictate
Will not adore thee,
Shall Then with Just Confusion,
And break before thee.
