I sleep, but my heart is waking. It is the sound of my Beloved that knocks, 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.
And it shall be, in the morning, about the sunrise, you shall rise early and charge against the city. And, behold, he and the people with him will come out to you; and you shall do to him as your hand shall find.