XII
Christe To His Spouse.

The floure of the field am I,
That springeth alone, vnset:
Whome Mary brought furth fleshly,
Though man dyd me not beget,
Nor set.

Yet am not I lyke the flower
Whiche once beyng rype, doeth dye:
But as the violet hath power
Whose flower smelleth moste swetely,
So I.

The Lilie am I lykewyse,
The glorious beautie bryght
Of the humble, who as vallies,
Ly low, doubtyng of theyr myght
To ryse.

These vallies among below
Whome hilles set aloft, doe hyde:
I Christe for the more part grow,
By fayth in them I abyde,
Not slow.

And as I that am thy head
Am fayer, so art thou my Spouse:
For as Lilies whyte and read
In beautie far passe the bowes
Of thorne,

Euen so thou my Loue, doest passe
In fayth other daughters borne:
The vnfaythfull that doe not passe
To pricke thee muche wurse than thorne,
With howes.

XIII
The Spouse To Her Beloued.

Not I my Loue, it is,
But thou that art so good:
For I am scarce a flower,
Where thou art very frute.
For as among the trees
That wylde grow in the wood,
By nature sharp and sower,
The Apple tree not brute
But pure, is of great price:
So thou Beloued of me,
Among the sonnes of God,
Sprites, Angels, soules, and men,
Art principall in power.
For all obey to thee,
By scripture vnforbod
To wurshyp where and when,
Thy name at euery hower,
With bowyng of theyr knees.

XIV
The Churche To The Younglinges.

I whiche dyd long my Loue to know,
Who is the apple tree of lyfe:
Haue sit doune in his Shade below,
Whiche is his help and refuge ryfe.

In this trees shade is quiet rest
For all that truly therin trust:
In whiche to sit for them is best,
Who to fynde rest in soule, doe lust.

For whyles I rested me in the shade
Of Christes helpe, there dyd I eate
The frute therof, Gods sprite, whiche made
Me feele the taste of Manna meat.

Wherof the relice is so swete
Vnto my Throte, whyle I it chew:
That doune I fall at Christes fete,
For this his fooed, high thankes to shew.

For whyle I sat vnder his wyng,
And trusted whole in power diuine:
Than dyd he lead me lyke a Kyng,
Into his wurd, his house of wyne.

In whiche whan I holp from aboue,
Was well refresht, my Kyng set vp
His standard strong, whiche is his loue,
For me, and all that taste his cup.

XV
The Spouse To The Younglynges

The streamer haue I seen
Of loue, whiche Kriste my Kyng
Hath reard for those that been
The flocke whome he woulde bryng
To loue.

With syght wherof my soule
Doeth flambe in lyke desyer,
And languisshing all whole
Is fiercely set on fyer,
With loue.

Paue me therfore ye yong,
With flowers beset me thicke:
Ye faythfull make me strong,
For loe how I am sicke
For loue.

With apples fyll me full,
Gods wurd the lyuely quicke:
With gyftes moste plentiful
Of grace, for I am sycke
Of Loue:

Of loue, because I long
That all mought saued be:
That all that wander wrong
Myght cleaue to Christe and me,
By Loue.

XVI
The Spouse To The Younglynges.

Vnder my head my Loue hath layed
His left hande of aduersitie,
To proue yf I woulde be afrayed
His truth moste true to testifie
Continually.

He suffereth men me to assayle
To trye me oft and diuersly
To see yf malice may preuayle
To make me leaue hym peruersly,
Continually

Wherwith although I be afflict,
In wurth I take all louyngly:
Beyng for Christes sake addict
To suffre al paynes wyllyngly,
Continually.

For God whan it shal please his grace,
May turne my trust to victorie:
For why his ryght hande wyll embrace
His Churche with all prosperitie,
Continually.

XVII
Chris te To The Younglynges.

O all ye daughters of Ierusalem,
I charge ye all bothe by the Roes and Hyndes,
The spirites of Angels, bryghter than the gem,
And in your help far swyfter than the wyndes:

Whiche runne about as hynde or roe in field,
To help the good that in my churche do dwell:
By these I charge you, as ye wyll they yield
Theyr seruice due, to saue and kepe you wel,

That at no hande ye touche or cause to wake,
The Churche my Spouse, that resteth in my lap:
With vayne beleues, whiche flesly braynes doe make
For snafflyng snares my faythful to betrap.

But let her lye tyll by her owne accorde
She wake her self, compelled by the zeale
She bearth to you, to leade you to the Lorde
That only can your soules sore wounded, heale.

XVIII
The Spouse To The Younglynges.

Of my Beloued this is the voyce,
For I doe know his voyce in dede:
Whiche causeth me muche to reioyce,
That he, to me, wyll take suche hede.

Loe how he leapeth vpon the hylles,
And daunseth doune the dales by stealth:
Whiche in his flesh al maner ylles
And scorne, hath borne, to geue me health.

Yea Christe my Loue moste good and kynde
His Spouse to help in tyme of nede,
Is swyft as Angel, Roe or Hynde:
But much, more ruche, in makyng spede.

Loe where he stands behynde our wall,
Our flesh, that doeth the soule diuyde
From God the good, through Adams fall:
Whose sin, within our flesh doeth byde.

Through which he by his gyftes of grace,
Doeth pepe and looke in at our grate,
And shyne through fayth our wyndoe place,
To bend, and mend our woful state.

XIX
The Churche To The Younglinges.

My Loue whome in my harte alway
I aske what wurke, he wyll I doe,
Made answer thus without delay,
And louely spake me to:
Aryse, arise.

Vp, vp my Loue, my doue, my frende,
Make haste, whome I haue made so fayer:
And cum to me, I wyll thee sende
My flocke for to repayre.
Aryse, arise.

XX
Christe To His Spouse.

Of vnbelefe now is cowlde wynter past,
The stormes lykewyse of blyndnes, and of trust
In mannes deuice, the whiche dyd ouercast
The truth, are goen: are knowen to be but rust.

And loe the flowers of faythful men and iust
In the erth, our lande, in beautie bud and bloome:
So that the tyme for whiche thou long didst lust,
The syngyng tyme, the tyme to preache is cum.

The turtles voyce, the voyce of the holy gost,
The wurd of God sincerely as it ought
Was heard abrode in our landes litle coast,
And as it shoulde, effectually hath wrought.

The fygtree loe, her blossomes furth hath brought,
The budded vines haue yelded out theyr smel:
The faythfull folke to whom my truth was tought,
In fayth and wurkes, excedyngly excell.

Aryse therfore my spouse, my special Loue,
Make haste, make spede, purely my wurde to preache:
And cum to me, cum, cum to me my doue,
To whome I geue myne holy goste to teache.

Cum to the Rocke, to me thy stedy leache,
Cum to the hoales, the merites of my death:
Cum to the hyd degrees of fayth, that reache
To perfectnes, assisted by my breath.

Then turne to me thy face, and let me hear
Thy voyce aloude, lyke thunder in the ayer.
Thy preachyng voyce is pleasaunt to myne ear,
And in myne iye thy face is very fayer.

XXI
Christ To His Spouse.

Catche vs the false foxes that preache not the truth,
Those young litle foxes whiche flatter my youth:

Catche them with scripture, declare them theyr follie,
Teache them to preache true my wurd that is hollie:
And stroy not my vineyardes.

They labour with learnyng the truth to deny,
And through theyr false faynyng to lead men awry,
Wastyng my vineyard, my people most holly:
Therfore catche them quickly, that they by theyr folly,
Destroy not my vineyardes.

For loe now my vine trees begyn thycke to bud,
In bryngyng furth bourgeons the whiche wyll be good:
Catche then these foxes ye preachers most holly,
Least by theyr flattring and false fayned folly,
They stroy al my vineyardes.

XXII.
The Spouse To The Younglynges

Christe my Beloued whiche styl doth fede
Among the flowers, hauyng delyght
Among his faythful lilies:

Doeth take great care for me in dede,
And I agayne with all my myght
Wyll do what so his wyl is.

My Loue in me, and I in hym,
Conioynde by loue wyll styl abyde
Among the faythful lilies:

Tyll day doe breake, and truth do dym
All shadowes darke, and cause them slyde
Accordyng as his wil is.

XXIII
The Spouse To Christe.

Returne my Loue, to these that are so blynde,
And geue them grace, for lacke wherof they erre:
Cum swyft my Loue, lyke to a Roe and hynde,
Vpon these proude, these mountaynes of Bather.

For from thy truth these proude deuided be,
Of stomake haute, with troubles vexed sore:
But meken them, and make them cum to me,
Whiche soone shall be, if thou thy grace restore.

Here endeth the second chapter.