XIII. Anonymous

SHOW me more love, my dearest Lord,

Oh turne away thy clouded face,

Give mee some secret looke or word

That may betoken love and grace;

No day or time is black to mee

But that wherein I see not thee.

Shew me more love, a clouded face

Strikes deeper then an angry blow;

Love mee and kill mee by thy grace,

I shall not much bewail my woe.

But even to bee

In heaven unlov’d of thee,

Were hell in heaven for to see.

Then heare my cry and helpe afford:

Show mee more love, my dearest Lord.

Show mee more love, my dearest Lord,—

I cannot think, nor speak nor pray;

Thy work stands still, my strength is stor’d

In thee alone. Oh come away!

Show me thy beauties, call them mine,

My heart and tongue will soone be thine.

Show me more love, or if my heart

To common be for such a guest,

Let thy good spirit, by its art,

Make entry and put out the rest.

For ’tis thy nest;

Then hee’s of heaven possest,

That heaven hath in his breast.

Then hear my cry, and help afford;

Show me more love, my dearest Lord.