They are wet with the showers of the mountains, And embrace the rock for want of a shelter.
They that did feed delicately Are desolate in the streets: They that were brought up In scarlet embrace dunghills.
(of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.
I sleep, but my heart waketh: 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, And my locks with the drops of the night.
They cause the naked to lodge without clothing, That they have no covering in the cold.
They pluck the fatherless from the breast, And take a pledge of the poor.