silver spangles.

And when the king turned himself, my nard gave his smell.

My friend is a clump of myrrh that hangeth between my breasts.

My friend is a grape of Kopher unto me in the vineyards of Engeddi.

Behold, my friend, thou art fair, fair art thou; thine eyes are as the eyes of a dove.

Behold, my friend, thou art fair and lovely. Our bed is green.

The beams of our houses are cedars, and our laths are cypresses.
(Song of Solomon)
Chapter 2
Love and sorrow are common to Christo and his bride.

I am a flower to Saron, and a rose in the valley.

As a rose among thorns, so is my friend among daughters.

As an apple tree among the wild trees, so is my friend among the sons. I sit under the shade of him whom I desire, And his fruit is sweet to my throat.

He leadeth me into the wine cellar, and love is his banner over me.

He hath refreshed me with flowers, and fed me with apples: for I am sick of love.

His left hand is under my head, and his right hand is upon me.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, or by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up my friend, nor stir her up, until ye yourselves fall.
(Epistle on the day of the Visitation.)

There is the voice of my friend. Behold, he cometh, and leapeth upon the mountains, and leapeth upon the hills.

My friend is like a roe deer, or a young hart. Behold, he standeth behind our wall, and looketh through the window, and peepeth through the lattice.

My friend answereth and saith unto me, Arise, my friend, my fair one, and come hither.

For, behold, the winter is past, and the rain is gone and gone; 12. The flowers are come forth in the land, the spring is come, and the turtledove is heard in our land;

The fig tree has gained nodes, the vines have gained eyes and give their smell. Arise, my friend, and come, my beautiful one, come here!

My dove in the holes of the rock, in the clefts of the stone, show me thy form, let me hear thy voice. For thy voice is sweet, and thy form lovely.

Fear us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards: for our vineyards have gained eyes.

My friend is mine, and I am his that feedeth among the roses, 17. Till the day be cool, and the shadow depart. Turn back, become like a deer, my friend, or like a young stag on the Scheideberge!
(Song of Solomon)
Chapter 3
Christ his church’s mighty shoe.

I sought in my bed at night him whom my soul loveth. I sought, but found him not.

I will arise, and go about the city in the streets and lanes, and seek him whom my soul loveth.
I sought, but found him not.

The watchmen that go about the city found me: Have ye not seen him whom my soul loveth?

And when I had passed a little before them, I found him whom my soul loveth. I hold him, and will not leave him, Till I bring him into my mother’s house, Into my mother’s chamber.

I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes or hinds of the field, that ye stir not up
my friend, nor stir her up, till she herself be fallen.

Who is she that cometh up out of the wilderness as a straight smoke, as the smoke of myrrh, and frankincense, and all manner of powder of an apothecary?

Behold, round about the bed of Solomon stand threescore and ten strong men of the mighty men of Israel.

They hold all swords, and are skillful in battle. Every man hath his sword upon his thigh for fear of the night.

And king Solomon made him a litter of wood out of Lebanon.

The pillars thereof were of silver, the covering of gold, the seat of purple, the floor in the midst thereof was beautifully paved for the daughters’ sake in Jerusalem.

Come forth, ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon in the crown, that his mother hath crowned him in the day of his marriage, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.
(Song of Solomon)
Chapter 4
Beauty of the Church a gift of grace.

Behold, my friend, thou art fair behold, fair art thou! Thine eyes are as the eyes of doves among thy braids. Thy hair is like the herds of goats that are shorn in mount Gilead.

Thy teeth are like the flock of circumcised wool, which come out of the flood, which bear twins at all times; and there is none barren among them.

Thy lips are like a rosy cord, and thy speech is sweet. Thy cheeks are like the slit on the pomegranate between thy braids.

Thy neck is like the tower of David, built with breastworks; there hang a thousand shields thereon, and all the weapons of the mighty.

thy two breasts are like two young doe twins grazing among the roses, 6. Till the day be cool, and the shadow be removed. I will go to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.

thou art all things fair, my friend, and there is no spot in thee.

Come, my bride, from Lebanon, come from Lebanon. Come in, come in from the height of Amana, from the height of Senir and Hermon, from the dwellings of lions, from the mountains of leopards.

Thou hast taken my heart, my sister, dear bride, with thine eyes one, and with thy necklaces one.

How beautiful are thy breasts, my sister, my dear bride! Thy breasts are more sweet than wine, and the smell of thy ointments surpasses all spices.

Thy lips, my bride, are as honey dripping; honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is as the smell of Lebanon.

My sister, dear bride, you are a closed garden, a closed spring, a sealed well.

Thy growth is like a garden of pomegranates, with noble fruit, Cyprus with nard, 14. nard with saffron, calamus, and tin names, with all manner of trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all the best spices.

As a garden fountain, as a spring of living waters flowing from Lebanon.

Arise, north wind, and come, south wind, and woe through my garden, that his spices may drip!
(Song of Solomon)
Chapter 5
Christ is invited by the church out of love for guests and praised for his beauty.

Let my friend come into his garden, and eat of his noble fruit.
Chap. 5, v. 1. I come, my sister, dear bride, into my garden. I have broken off my myrrh together with my spices; I have eaten of my seed together with my honey; I have drunk of my wine together with my milk. Eat, my beloved, and drink, my friends, and be drunk!

I sleep, but my heart waketh. There is the voice of my friend knocking, Open to me, my dear friend, my sister, my dove, my pious: for my head is full of dew, and my locks of night-drops.

I have taken off my skirt, how shall I put it on again? I have washed my feet, how shall I sully
them again?

But my friend put his hand through the hole, and my body trembled at it.

And I arose to give up my friend; and my hands were dripping with myrrh, and myrrh ran upon my fingers by the latch of the lock.

And when I had opened my friend, he was gone, and departed. Then went out my soul after his word: I sought him, but found him not: I called, but he answered me not.

And the keepers of the city found me, and smote me sore: the keepers of the wall took away my veil.

I beseech you, ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my friend, tell him that I lie sick of love.

What is thy friend above other friends, O thou fairest of women? What is thy friend before other friends, that thou hast thus adjured us?

my friend is white and red, chosen among many thousands.

His head is the finest gold. His curls are frizzy, black as a raven.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of water, washed with milk, and standing in fullness.

His cheeks are like the growing of the spices of the apothecaries. His lips are like roses dripping with flowing myrrh.

His hands are like rings of gold, full of turquoises; His body is as pure ivory adorned with sapphires.

His legs are like pillars of marble, founded upon feet of gold. His form is like Lebanon, chosen like cedars.

His throat is sweet, and all sweetness. Such a one is my friend; my friend is such, O
daughters of Jerusalem!
(Song of Solomon)
Chapter 6
The church is commended and visited upon its confession of Christ.

Whither then hath thy friend gone, O thou fairest of women? Whither hath thy friend turned?
Let us seek him with thee.
Ch. 6, v. 1. My friend is gone down to his garden, to the spice garden, to feed among the gardens, and to break the roses.

My friend is mine, and I am his that feedeth among the roses.

Thou art fair, my friend, as Thirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, terrible as Heerspitzen.

Turn away thine eyes from me; for they make me ruthless: thy hair is as a flock of goats shorn in mount Gilead.

Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which come out of the flood, which bear twins every one; and there is not one barren among them.

your cheeks are like a slit on the pomegranate between your braids.

Sixty are the queens, and fourscore the concubines; and there is no number of virgins.

But one is my dove, my pious; one is her mother’s beloved, and her mother’s