The Song of Songs, Chapter V: The Version

Christ.
I'M come into a Paradise,
My Sister and my Spouse;
I've gather'd of my Myrrh and Spice,
Which in my Garden grows.
My Honey Comb and Honey too
Have been my sweet Repast;
My Wine, my Milk which here do flow,
Have chear'd my Heart and Tast:
My Friends and dear Companions,
Come, Feast your selves with Me;
Drink, O my Welbeloved Ones,
Yea, Drink abundantly.

The Church.
I sleep, but yet my Heart doth wake,
Heark, my Beloved One
Doth Knock and Call. I can't mistake
His Knock, his Tread, his Tone:
Open to Me, my Fathers Child,
Open to Me, my Love;
Open to me, my Undefil'd,
Open to me, my Dove:
Open to me, that wait for Thee,
My Head is fill'd with Dew;
And all my Locks with Ev'ning Drops,
Let's have an Enterview.

My Coat is off, and how shall I
Put on my Coat again?
Should I come o're the Dusty Floor,
My washed Feet to stain?

My Dearest then by the key-hole
His willing Hand did move;
Which when I did perceive, my Soul
Was touch'd with Grief and Love.

Rowz'd by this Passion, I did stir,
And answer'd to his Call;
My Hands and Fingers drop'd with Myrrh,
Which from the Lock did fall.

Then did I open to my Dear,
But he (alas!) was gone;
He whom I did so lately hear,
Methoughts I was undone:
I sought him whom my Soul ador'd,
But him I could not have,
I call'd and cry'd, my Love, my Lord!
But He no answer gave.

Then did the cruel City-Watch
Smite Me, and wound Me sore;
The Keepers of the Wall did snatch
Away the Veil I wore.

O Daughters of Jerusalem!
I charge You, if Ye find
My Glorious Dear, that he may hear
My Love afflicts my Mind.

The Daughters of Jerusalem.
What Jewel is this Dear of thine,
O Fairest, let us know;
Wherein does thine Others out-shine,
That thou dost charge us so?

The Church.
My dear Delight is Red and White,
The Lilly and the Rose;
So sweet a Grace adorns his Face,
Ten thousand he out-goes.

His Head is like the Finest Gold,
And curled Locks doth wear,
Which do the Ravens Colour hold,
So comely is his Hair.

His Eyes are like the Eyes of Doves,
Which on the Banks are met,
And do the streams of Water love,
Milk-washt and fitly set.

His Cheeks are like a spicy Bed,
Where all Perfumes do meet;
His Lips like Lillies, whence is shed
The Myrrh that smells so sweet.

His Hands are like the Chrysolite
In Rings of Gold display'd,
His Belly is like Ivory bright,
With Sapphires overlaid.

His Legs like Marble Pillars are
On Golden Sockets set;
His Face, like Lebanon, is most Fair,
Like Cedars most compleat.
His Mouth is most exceeding Sweet,
Yea, he is wholly so;
Down from his Head unto his Feet,
With Sweetness he doth flow:
O Salems Daughters, This is He
Of whom ye did enquire;
This is the Friend that loveth Me,
This is my Hearts desire.