I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, As the tents of Kedar, As the curtains of Solomon.
Stay ye me with raisins, comfort me with apples: For I am sick of love.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, and by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awaken love, until it please.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, and by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awaken love, Until it please.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, That ye stir not up, nor awaken love, Until it please.
Now I beseech you, brethren, by our Lord Jesus Christ, and by the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me;
Confess therefore your sins one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The supplication of a righteous man availeth much in its working.