My beloved is a bundle of myrrh to me, Lying between my breasts.
And their father Yisra’ĕ
All Your garments are myrrh and aloes, cassia; Out of the palaces of ivory, Stringed instruments have made You glad.
I have put you under oath, O daughters of Yerushalayim, By the gazelles or by the does of the field, Do not stir up nor awaken love until it pleases.
Who is this coming out of the wilderness Like columns of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, From all the merchant’s fragrant powders?
Nard and saffron, Calamus and cinnamon, With all trees of frankincense, Myrrh and aloes, With all the chief spices;
Awake, O north wind, and come, O south! Blow upon my garden, let its spices flow out. Let my beloved come to his garden And eat its pleasant fruits.
Until the day breaks and the shadows have fled, I shall go my way to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense.
I have come to my garden, My sister, my bride; I have plucked my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends! Drink, and drink deeply, O beloved ones!
His cheeks are like a bed of spices, Raised bed of scented plants. His lips are lilies, dripping flowing myrrh.
I rose to open for my beloved, And my hands dripped with myrrh, My fingers with flowing myrrh, On the handles of the lock.
And Naḵ
that the Messiah might dwell in your hearts through belief – having become rooted and grounded in love,