Song of Songs 5
I have gathered my myrrh with my spice;
I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey;
I have drunk my wine with my milk.
Eat, O friends;
Drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying,
Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled;
For my head is filled with dew,
My locks with the drops of the night.
I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
And my heart was moved for him.
And my hands droppeth with myrrh,
And my fingers with liquid myrrh,
Upon the handles of the bolt.
But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone.
My soul had failed me when he spake:
I sought him, but I could not find him;
I called him, but he gave me no answer.
They smote me, they wounded me;
The keepers of the walls took away my mantle from me.
If ye find my beloved,
That ye tell him, that I am sick from love.
O thou fairest among women?
What is thy beloved more than another beloved,
That thou dost so adjure us?
The chiefest among ten thousand.
His locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
Washed with milk, and fitly set.
As banks of sweet herbs:
His lips are as lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
His body is as ivory work overlaid with sapphires.
His aspect is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
Yea, he is altogether lovely.
This is my beloved, and this is my friend,
O daughters of Jerusalem.