1 O what shall I do to retrieve
The Love for a Season bestow'd:
'Tis better to die than to live
Exil'd from the Presence of God:
With Sorrow distracted and Doubt,
With palpable Horror opprest,
The City I wander about,
And seek my Repose in his Breast.
2 Ye Watchmen of Israel, declare
If ye my beloved have seen,
And point to that heav'nly fair,
Surpassing the Children of Men:
My Love and Lord from above,
Who only can quiet my Pain,
Whom only I languish to love,
O where shall I find him again?
3 The Joy and Desire of mine Eyes,
The End of my Sorrow and woe;
My Hope, and my Heav'nly Prize,
My Height of Ambition below:
Once more if he shew me his Face,
He never again shall depart,
Detain'd in my closest Embrace,
Conceal'd in the Depth of my Heart.