Poem by Charlotte Eliza Dixon

On the Songs of Solomon

OH, read the lovely melting Song,
Till all your inward soul is mov'd ;
And as we range these groves among,
We'll muse and speak of our Belov'd!
Oh, listen to His heav'nly voice,
Soft floating thro' these beauteous verses;
Its thrillings will the heart rejoice,
As with His fair one He converses!
Hear Him declare his lasting love,
Which can't be quench'd by many waters:
Hark! how He calls His mourning Dove
The FATHER'S undefiled Daughter!
One arm beneath her sinking head,
When dangers rise, He fondly places,
And, till each gathering storm is fled,
The other circling arm embraces!
Oh! how securely can she rest,
Upon a love so deep, so tender;
Close to that faithful bosom prest,
In arms that can, that will defend her!
Down to their garden of delights,
She follows wheresoe'r He'll take her;
No jealousy her soul affrights,
She knows He never will forsake her!
As onward through the wilderness,
This frequent whisper well contents her:
"His Father will their union bless,
When at his footstool He presents her."
Behold her raise her streaming eyes,
Reflecting all His borrow'd graces!
"Thou altogether sweet!" she cries:
"Thou loveliest of ten thousand faces!
"Oh! take me where thy guarded sheep
Enclosed feed near spicy mountains;
On thy dear bosom let me weep,
And watch them sip the living fountains.
"Draw, draw me by some cord of love,
Round my sad heart-strings let it fasten;
Then wilt Thou see thy timid Dove
After thy fragrant footsteps hasten.
"For what should make her turn aside?
From thy companions prove a rover?
Or why should'st Thou thine aspect hide
From her who owns no other lover?
"By night if on her bed she seeks
Her dear one gone, Thou know'st her anguish;
To every passer-by she speaks,--
'Saw, saw you Him for whom I languish?'
"If to thy vineyard Thou'lt remove
Without thy Spouse, back hasten hither;
Why, why before these eyes of love,
Should Sharon's Rose appear to wither?"
O'ercome, the tender Bridegroom cries,
"This touching grief my soul entrances;
Turn, turn from me those dewy eyes,
I cannot bear their tearful glances.
"Come to the banquet of delight,
My flowing banner shall enfold thee,
Never to quit my watchful sight,
Within my heart I have enroll'd thee!
"Paved with love, my chariot soon
Shall bear thee o'er the spicy mountain;
Where, oh! thou fairer than the moon!
Thou'lt drink of love's exhaustless fountain!"
Thus vents the timorous Bride her woe,
And thus His nuptial vow engages,
Whose soft harmonious accents flow,
Like music through these sacred pages!
I read the lovely melting song,
Till all my inmost soul is moved,
And as I muse the lines among,
I'm sick of love, Thou best beloved!

1. To G. C. Smith
2. To J. S.
3. Gethsemane
4. Buried with Christ in Baptism

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