Arise, cry out in the night, at the beginning of the watches; Pour out thy heart like water before the face of the Lord: Lift up thy hands toward him for the life of thy young children, that faint for hunger at the head of every street.
I was asleep, but my heart waked: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.
Yea, he would have allured thee out of distress Into a broad place, where there is no straitness; And that which is set on thy table would be full of fatness.