(Canticles 6:13. Return, oh Shulamite, Return, Return) <br /> <br />My dear, dear Lord, I know not what to say: <br />Speech is too coarse a web for me to clothe <br />My love to Thee in or it to array <br />Or make a mantle. Would'st Thou not such loathe? <br />Thy love to me's too great for me to shape <br />A vesture for the same at any rate. <br /> <br />When as Thy love doth touch my heart down-tossed <br />It tremblingly runs, seeking Thee its all, <br />And as a child when it his nurse hath lost <br />Runs seeking her, and after her doth call. <br />So when Thou hid'st from me, I seek and sigh. <br />Thou sayest, 'Return, return, Oh Shulamite.' <br /> <br />Rent out on use Thy love, Thy love I pray. <br />My love to Thee shall be Thy rent, and I <br />Thee use on use, int'rest on int'rest pay. <br />There's none extortion in such usury. <br /> <br />I'll pay Thee use on for 't and therefore <br />Thou shalt become the greatest usurer. <br />But yet the principal I'll ne'er restore. <br />The same is Thine and mine. We shall not jar. <br />And so this blessed usury shall be <br />Most profitable both to Thee and me. <br /> <br />And shouldst Thou hide Thy shining face most fair <br />Away from me. And in a sinking wise <br />My trembling beating heart brought nigh t' despair <br />Should cry to Thee and in a trembling guise, <br />Lord, quicken it. Drop in its ears delight, <br />Saying, 'Return, return, my Shulamite.'<br /><br />Edward Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/preparatory-meditations-second-series-146/
