O Love What A Secret To Mortals Thou Art

O Love! what a Secret to Mortals thou art!
‘Tis God’s deep Eternity, Nature and Heart:
The witnessing Dove confirms this high Plan,
And likewise his Word and his Dealings with Man;
The Sorrows of Jesus, his Torment and Pain,
Has left no Foundation for doubting again.

O Love! how mysterious and boundless art thou!
Thy Date and thy Measure unlimited flow:
This Jesus reveals with Evidence strong;
It gladdens my Heart, and inspires my Song
With Praise to my Saviour, my Lord and my God,
Whose Love is my Glory, as view’d in his Blood.

O Love! what a Gath’ring of souls thou hast made!
All into one Fountain, one Body, one Head;
Where they wer preserv’d thy own, thro’ the Fall,
The Fulness of Jesus, who fills all in all:
Close in her Pavilion, the Darling, the Bride,
Lay hid in her Husband, till born from his Side.

O Love! what a Bridegroom of Honour and Trust!
The Fulness of Heaven hath married my Dust;
He humbled himself to cleave to his Wife,
In all her Distress and her Sorrows of Life;
With her was he number’d amongst the Unclean,
Nor yet could he loathe her, nor Jar come between.

O Love! what a Husband thy Care did provide!
Descending from Glory in Search of thy Bride;
Her Substance conceived, thy Body was she,
Incarnate in her, and she then was in thee;
In th’ Womb of the Virgin, the Twain was made one,
Whence God, our Creator, was born a poor Man.