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This chapter begins with Christ’s answer to the church’s request, at the close of the preceding chapter; in which he inform her, that he was come into his garden, as she desired; and gives an account of what he had done there; and kindly invites her, and his dear friends, to feast with him there, verse 1. Then she relates her case and circumstances, which followed upon her sleepy frame, and ungrateful carriage to her beloved; which he resenting, he withdrew from her, and this gave her sensible pairs, verses 2-6. Also what treatment she met with from the watchmen; her charge to the daughters of Jerusalem; and the questions they put to her about her beloved, verses 7-9, which led her to give a large description of him, by his several parts, head, hair, etc., verses 10-15. And the chapter is concluded with a general commendation of him and his loveliness, and a claim of interest in him, verse 36.
I am come into
my garden, my sister, my spouse, I have gathered
my myrrh with my spice, I have eaten my honey-comb with my
honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends, drink,
yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
I sleep, but
my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that
knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, ray dove, ray
undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and ray locks with the
drops of the night.
have put off my coat, how shall I put it on?
I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?
beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door,
and my bowels were moved for him.
I rose up to
open to my beloved, and my hands dropped with
myrrh, and my fingers with sweet, smelling, myrrh, upon the
handles of the lock.
I opened to my
beloved, but my beloved had withdrawn himself,
and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I
could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
that went about the city, found me; they smote me,
they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from
charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
What is thy
beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest
among women? What is thy beloved more than another beloved,
that thou dost so charge us?
My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
head is as the most fine gold; his locks are bushy,
and black as a raven:
eyes are as the eyes of doves, by the rivers of water,
washed with milk, and fitly set.
cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers:
his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
hands are as gold rings set with the beryl:
his belly is as bright ivory, overlaid with sapphires
legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold:
his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely.
is my beloved, and this is my friend,
O daughters of Jerusalem.
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