O Voice of the Belovèd

O voice of the Be­lov­èd!

Thy bride hath heard Thee say

“Rise up

My love

My fair one

Arise and come away.

For lo

’tis past

the win­ter

The win­ter of thy year;

The rain is past and ov­er

The flow­ers on earth ap­pear.

And now the time of sing­ing

Is come for ev­ery bird;

And ov­er all the coun­try

The tur­tle dove is heard;

The fig her green fruit rip­ens

The vines are in their bloom;

Arise and smell their frag­rance;

My love

My fair one

come!

Yea

Lord! Thy pass­ion ov­er

We know this life of ours

Hath passed from death and win­ter

To leaves and bud­ding flow­ers;

No more Thy rain of weep­ing

In drear Geth­se­ma­ne;

No more the clouds and dark­ness

That veiled Thy bi­tter tree.

Our East­er sun is ris­en!

And yet we slum­ber long

And need Thy dove’s sweet plead­ing

To wak­en pray­er and song.

Oh breathe up­on our dead­ness

Oh shine up­on our gloom;

Lord

let us feel Thy pre­sence

And rise and live and bloom.