A spring shut up, a fountain sealed art thou, O Christ, to us, and we would be such to thee; a garden enclosed for our Beloved, wherein he may take his delights. Our soul shall sing for joy, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine; he feedeth among the lilies.”
Oh! for a day’s release from every care! Now break the bands of our yoke. And, oh that we could live above care in the weekdays too, casting all our cares on him who cares for us, and leaving all in those wise hands that rule the world, and can well rule our mean affairs.
Lord may praised always