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Longing for Her Beloved

¹ O that you were to me like a brother who nursed at my mother’s breasts! If I found you outdoors, I would kiss you, and no one would despise me.² I would lead you and bring you to the house of my mother who taught me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, the nectar of my pomegranates.³ His left hand is under my head, and his right arm embraces me.⁴ O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you: Do not arouse or awaken love until the time is right.

The Bride

⁵ Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved? I roused you under the apple tree; there your mother conceived you, there she travailed and brought you forth.⁶ Set me as a seal over your heart, as a seal upon your arm. For love is as strong as death, its jealousy^(a) as unrelenting as Sheol. Its sparks are fiery flames, the fiercest blaze of all.⁷ Mighty waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If a man were to give all the riches of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

The Friends

⁸ We have a little sister, and her breasts are not yet grown. What shall we do for our sister on the day she is spoken for?⁹ If she is a wall, we will build a tower of silver to protect her. If she is a door, we will enclose her with panels of cedar.

The Bride

The Groom

¹³ You who dwell in the gardens, my companions are listening for your voice. Let me hear it!

The Bride