Behold thee beautiful, my friend, behold thee beautiful; thine eyes doves' from behind to thy veil: thy hair as a herd of goats which lay down from mount Gilead.
I slept and my heart waked: the voice of my beloved knocks at the door; Open to me, my sister, my friend, my dove, my perfect one: my head was filled with dew, my locks with the drops of the night
Wo to those going down to Egypt for help; and they will look upon horses, and trust upon chariots, because they are many; and upon horsemen because they were strong greatly; and they looked not upon the Holy One of Israel, and sought not Jehovah.