Take me away with you. Let us hurry. The king has brought me into his chambers. We will be glad and rejoice in you. We will praise your love more than wine. They are right to love you.

My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh, that lies between my breasts.

Who is this who comes up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all spices of the merchant?

Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of frankincense.

spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree; myrrh and aloes, with all the best spices,

I have 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, friends. Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved.

I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock.

His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.