Who is this fair one in distress,
That travels from the wilderness?
And pressed with sorrows and with sins,
On her belov�d Lord she leans.

This is the spouse of Christ our God,
Bought with the treasure of His blood;
And her request and her complaint
Is but the voice of every saint.

�O let my name engraven stand
Both on Thy heart and on Thy hand;
Seal me upon Thine arm, and wear
That pledge of love for ever there.

�Stronger than death Thy love is known,
Which floods of wrath could never drown;
And hell and earth in vain combine
To quench a fire so much divine.

�But I am jealous of my heart,
Lest it should once from Thee depart;
Then let Thy Name be well impressed,
As a fair signet on my breast.

�Till Thou hast brought me to Thy home,
Where fears and doubts can never come,
Thy countenance let me often see,
And often Thou shalt hear from me.

�Come, my Belov�d, haste away,
Cut short the hours of Thy delay;
Fly like a youthful hart or roe
Over the hills where spices grow.�