Song of Songs 8:14
Make haste, my beloved, And be thou like to a roe or to a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.
Make haste, my beloved, And be thou like to a roe or to a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.
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16 My beloved is mine, and I am his: He feedeth [his flock] among the lilies.
17 Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart Upon the mountains of Bether.
7 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, Until he please.
8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh, Leaping upon the mountains, Skipping upon the hills.
9 My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: Behold, he standeth behind our wall; He looketh in at the windows; He glanceth through the lattice.
10 My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
13 Thou that dwellest in the gardens, The companions hearken for thy voice: Cause me to hear it.
5 Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies.
6 Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense.
7 Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee.
8 Come with me from Lebanon, [my] bride, With me from Lebanon: Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the mountains of the leopards.
9 Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, [my] bride; Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.
10 How fair is thy love, my sister, [my] bride! How much better is thy love than wine! And the fragrance of thine oils than all manner of spices!
11 Thy lips, O [my] bride, drop [as] the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
12 A garden shut up is my sister, [my] bride; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
13 Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits; Henna with spikenard plants,
5 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, Until he please.
6 Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all powders of the merchant?
13 My beloved is unto me [as] a bundle of myrrh, That lieth betwixt my breasts.
14 My beloved is unto me [as] a cluster of henna-flowers In the vineyards of En-gedi.
15 Behold, thou art fair, my love; Behold thou art fair; Thine eyes are [as] doves.
16 Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: Also our couch is green.
13 The fig-tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the steep place, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
19 [ As] a loving hind and a pleasant doe, Let her breasts satisfy thee at all times; And be thou ravished always with her love.
10 I am my beloved's; And his desire is toward me.
11 Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; Let us lodge in the villages.
12 Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine hath budded, [And] its blossom is open, [And] the pomegranates are in flower: There will I give thee my love.
15 [ Thou art] a fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, And flowing streams from Lebanon.
16 Awake, O north wind; And come, thou south; Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat his precious fruits.
1 Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned him, That we may seek him with thee?
2 My beloved is gone down to his garden, To the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3 I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine; He feedeth [his flock] among the lilies,
4 Thou art fair, O my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as an army with banners.
5 Turn away thine eyes from me, For they have overcome me. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of Gilead.
7 Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest [thy flock], Where thou makest [it] to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that is veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?
8 If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, And feed thy kids beside the shepherds' tents.
9 I have compared thee, O my love, To a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.
6 How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
4 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, Until he please.
5 Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, Leaning upon her beloved? Under the apple-tree I awakened thee: There thy mother was in travail with thee, There was she in travail that brought thee forth.
1 Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are [as] doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead.
3 Thine oils have a goodly fragrance; Thy name is [as] oil poured forth; Therefore do the virgins love thee.
4 Draw me; we will run after thee: The king hath brought me into his chambers; We will be glad and rejoice in thee; We will make mention of thy love more than of wine: Rightly do they love thee. [
1 I am come into my garden, my sister, [my] bride: 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.
2 I was asleep, but my heart waked: 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.
3 Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe.
8 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from love.
9 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 adjure us?
13 His cheeks are as a bed of spices, [As] banks of sweet herbs: His lips are [as] lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.