I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.
Now I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me;
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.
I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.