Look not upon me, because I am swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mother's sons were incensed against me, They made me keeper of the vineyards; But mine own vineyard have I not kept.
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in the which the Holy Ghost hath made you bishops, to feed the church of God, which he purchased with his own blood.