Song of Songs 2:4
He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
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5Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
6His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.
7I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
8The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
9My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.
10My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
3The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?
4It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.
5I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
6Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?
1I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: 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.
2I sleep, but my heart waketh: 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, and my locks with the drops of the night.
2I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate.
3His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.
4I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.
5Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth that bare thee.
10I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.
11Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.
12Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth: there will I give thee my loves.
6Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
7Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.
8Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
9Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
10How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
1Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.
2My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies.
4Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.
13The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
1Now will I sing to my wellbeloved a song of my beloved touching his vineyard. My wellbeloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill: