Monday Morning
“Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.”
—Cant. iv. 16.
Now let our heavenly plants and flowers
Diffuse a fragrance more Divine;
Refreshed by the sweet Sabbath showers,
With richer beauty they should shine.
We have been wafted for a while
Far, far away from this low scene;
Been cheered by our Redeemer’s smile,
Been suffered on his breast to lean.
What has he taught us? what should be
The fruit of intercourse so blest?
O should not all around us see
His image on our souls imprest?
Within his ivory palace fair
We entered a much-favoured train:
Myrrh, aloes, cassia, filled the air,
Our garments should the scent retain.
And we should pass along the earth,
Like birds that live upon the wing;
Rise to the country of our birth,
And on our way its anthems sing.