Song of Songs 1:1-17

The most amazing song of all, by King Solomon. Let him smother me with kisses—his Spirit-kiss divine. So kind are your caresses, I drink them in like the sweetest wine! Your presence releases a fragrance so pleasing— over and over poured out. For your lovely name is “Flowing Oil.” No wonder the brides-to-be adore you. Draw me into your heart. We will run away together into the king’s cloud-filled chamber. We will remember your love, rejoicing and delighting in you, celebrating your every kiss as better than wine. No wonder righteousness adores you! Jerusalem maidens, in this twilight darkness I know I am so unworthy—so in need. Yet you are so lovely! I feel as dark and dry as the desert tents of the wandering nomads. Yet you are so lovely— like the fine linen tapestry hanging in the Holy Place. Please don’t stare in scorn because of my dark and sinful ways. My angry brothers quarreled with me and appointed me guardian of their ministry vineyards, yet I’ve not tended my vineyard within. Won’t you tell me, lover of my soul, where do you feed your flock? Where do you lead your beloved ones to rest in the heat of the day? Why should I be like a veiled woman as I wander among the flocks of your shepherds? Listen, my radiant one— if you ever lose sight of me, just follow in my footsteps where I lead my lovers. Come with your burdens and cares. Come to the place near the sanctuary of my shepherds. My dearest one, let me tell you how I see you— you are so thrilling to me. To gaze upon you is like looking at one of Pharaoh’s finest horses— a strong, regal steed pulling his royal chariot. Your tender cheeks are beautiful— your earrings and gem-laden necklaces set them ablaze. We will enhance your beauty, with golden ornaments studded with silver. As the king surrounded me at his table, the sweet fragrance of spikenard awakened the night. A sachet of myrrh is my lover, like a tied-up bundle of myrrh resting over my heart. He is like a bouquet of henna blossoms— henna plucked near the vines at the fountain of the Lamb. I will hold him and never let him part. My darling, you are so lovely! You are beauty itself to me. Your passionate eyes are like gentle doves. My beloved one, both handsome and winsome, you are pleasing beyond words. Our resting place is anointed and flourishing, like a green forest meadow bathed in light. Rafters of cedar branches are over our heads and balconies of pleasant-smelling pines.