I am sleeping, but my heart is awake. A sound! My lover is knocking. Open the door for me, my sister, my beloved, my dove and pure one; for my head is wet with dew, my hair with the drops of the night.
For the vision is yet for an appointed time; but it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it delays, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.
But if that servant says in his heart, ‘My master delays his coming,’ and begins to beat the house servants, both men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk,