My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: *Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night.*
I heard the voice from heaven saying, *Write, 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.'* *Yes,* says the Spirit, *that they may rest from their labors; for their works follow with them.*