BAXTER'S POEMS. And comfortably come to thee ; My God, thou must accomplish it; 'l'he love which fill'd up all my days, Will not forsake me to the end : 53 This broken body thou wilt raise: · My spirit I to thee commend. Decemb. 3, 1663. DlVINE LOVE'S REST. (Written on Herbert's Poems.) THE am'rous needle knows no other rest, But at its dear attractive loadstone's breast. Though lying dead b~fore the potent touch, Its object and affection were not such. The oily body married to a spark, Which some cold flint had lock'd up in the dark, By the unseen hot soul is made so bright, As if in it that soul appear'd to sight; Which in revenge for its restraint and toil, Still working upwards·, wastes the loving oil ; Having a higher love, is not content, Until it reach its proper element. Thus heav'n-born souls, but lately dead in sin; By faith and love the heavenly life begin: And daily mounting upwards, take their flight, From flesh and earth unto the world of light; Where darkness, sin, or grief shall never enter: Where all the saints are one in God, their centl·e. Where love reveals itself with open face, Ravishing souls prepared by saving grace.
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