Thematic Bible: Song of
Thematic Bible
Bridegroom » Song of
Thou art, all over, beautiful, my fair one, and, blemish, is there none in thee. With me, from Lebanon, O bride, with me, from Lebanon, shalt thou enter, - Thou shalt look round from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir, and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards. Thou hast encouraged me, my sister, bride, - thou hast encouraged me, with one glance of thine eyes, with one ornament of thy neck. read more.
How beautiful are thy caresses, my sister, bride, - how much more delightful thy caresses, than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils, than all spices: With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, - Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon. A garden barred, is my sister, bride, - a spring barred, a fountain sealed: Thy buddings forth, are a paradise of pomegranates, with precious fruits, - henna bushes, with nard blossoms: Nard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all woods of frankincense, - myrrh and aloes, with all the chiefs of spices: A garden fountain, a well of living waters, - and flowings from Lebanon. SHEAwake, O north wind, and come in, thou south, Fan my garden - its balsams, will flow out, - Let my beloved enter his garden, and eat his precious fruits.
How beautiful are thy caresses, my sister, bride, - how much more delightful thy caresses, than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils, than all spices: With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, - Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon. A garden barred, is my sister, bride, - a spring barred, a fountain sealed: Thy buddings forth, are a paradise of pomegranates, with precious fruits, - henna bushes, with nard blossoms: Nard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all woods of frankincense, - myrrh and aloes, with all the chiefs of spices: A garden fountain, a well of living waters, - and flowings from Lebanon. SHEAwake, O north wind, and come in, thou south, Fan my garden - its balsams, will flow out, - Let my beloved enter his garden, and eat his precious fruits.