Mather Byles

The Altogether Lovely.

 Next Poem          

Oft has thy Name employ'd my Muse,
Thou Lord of all above:
Oft has my Song to thee arose,
My Song, inspir'd by Love.

My Heart has oft confess'd in Flame,
And melted all away:
Thou art by Night my hourly Dream,
My hourly Thought by Day.

Each Feature o'er thee is a Charm,
And ev'ry Limb a Grace;
Divinely beauteous all thy Form,
Divinely fair thy Face.

Thy Love to me how large! how full!
How kind are thy Commands!
Take, O my Love, take all my Soul
For ever in thy Hands.

Those bleeding Hands, which on the Cross
Were stretch'd for my Caress:
In the dear Thought my Life I loose--
Was ever Love like this!

Weep, weep my Eyes, let gushing Tears
Stream in an endless flow:
Love on his dying Lips he wears,
His Wounds Compassion show.

Now he remembers me, and speaks,
I hear his Voice; Forgive:
In the dead Pale that spreads his Cheeks;
Ten thousand Beauties live.

Lord, my Affections all are thine,
Warm'd with a grateful Fire;
And thou, O best Belov'd, art mine,
My Hope, and my Desire.

Conspiring Love, conspiring Charms,
Confess thee all my Joy:
Come, heav'nly Fair, come to my Arms
And all my Pow'rs employ.

Next Poem 

 Back to
Mather Byles