1 Ye servants of Jesus the Lamb that was slain,
Come think of his love and rejoice in his name,
How happy was he with his Father above,
And nothing to move him to us but his love.

2 The riches that Jesus hath promis'd his bride,
If she of the world and the flesh are deny'd;
O she shall have peace, and sweet comfort within
But nevertheless have a warfare with sin.

3 For how can she bare to have sin in her breast,
The place that she's chosen for Jesus to rest;
No, with her whole heart the wishes them slain,
That Jesus her Saviour forever might reign.

4 The bride cries dear Jesus we pray the too make,
A scourge of small cords and possession to take,
And drive out the buyers and sellers from thence,
And make us a temple that gives no offence.

5 Yea make us like gold or like silver that's try'd,
Then Jesus may enter and sup with his bride,
Her graces will rise and the spices will flow,
And Jesus may walk in his garden below.