Song of Songs 5–6: The Second Night, the Watchmen's Blows, and "This Is My Friend
Scripture: Berean Standard Bible
The BridegroomI have come to 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.
The FriendsEat, O friends, and drink;drink freely, O beloved.
The BrideI sleep, but my heart is awake.A sound! My beloved is knocking:“Open to me, my sister, my darling,my dove, my flawless one.My head is drenched with dew,my hair with the dampness of the night.”
I have taken off my robe—must I put it back on?I have washed my feet—must I soil them again?My beloved put his hand to the latch;my heart pounded for him.I rose up to open for my beloved.My hands dripped with myrrh,my fingers with flowing myrrhon the handles of the bolt.I opened for my beloved,but he had turned and gone.My heart sank at his departure.I sought him, but did not find him.I called, but he did not answer.
I encountered the watchmen on their rounds of the city.They beat me and bruised me;they took away my cloak,those guardians of the walls.O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you,if you find my beloved,tell him I am sick with love.
The FriendsHow is your beloved better than others,O most beautiful among women?How is your beloved better than another,that you charge us so?
The BrideMy beloved is dazzling and ruddy,outstanding among ten thousand.His head is purest gold;his hair is wavy and black as a raven.His eyes are like dovesbeside the streams of water,bathed in milkand mounted like jewels.His cheeks are like beds of spice,towers of perfume.His lips are like lilies,dripping with flowing myrrh.His arms are rods of goldset with beryl.His body is an ivory panelbedecked with sapphires.His legs are pillars of marbleset on bases of pure gold.His appearance is like Lebanon,as majestic as the cedars.His mouth is most sweet;he is altogether lovely.This is my beloved, and this is my friend,O daughters of Jerusalem.
The FriendsWhere has your beloved gone,O most beautiful among women?Which way has he turned?We will seek him with you.
The BrideMy beloved has gone down to his garden,to the beds of spices,to pasture his flock in the gardensand to gather lilies.I belong to my beloved and he belongs to me;he pastures his flock among the lilies.
The BridegroomYou are as beautiful, my darling, as Tirzah,as lovely as Jerusalem,as majestic as troops with banners.Turn your eyes away from me,for they have overcome me.Your hair is like a flock of goatsstreaming down from Gilead.Your teeth are like a flock of sheepcoming up from the washing;each has its twin,and not one of them is lost.Your brow behind your veilis like a slice of pomegranate.
There are sixty queens and eighty concubines,and maidens without number,but my dove, my perfect one, is unique,the favorite of the mother who bore her.The maidens see her and call her blessed;the queens and concubines sing her praises.
The FriendsWho is this who shines like the dawn,as fair as the moon,as bright as the sun,as majestic as the stars in procession?
The BridegroomI went down to the walnut groveto see the blossoms of the valley,to see if the vines were buddingor the pomegranates were in bloom.Before I realized it, my desire had set meamong the royal chariots of my people.
The FriendsCome back, come back, O Shulammite!Come back, come back, that we may gaze upon you.
The BridegroomWhy do you look at the Shulammite,as on the dance of Mahanaim?