“O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covering of the cliff, Let me see your appearance, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, And your appearance is lovely.”
I was sleeping, But my heart was awake – the voice of my beloved! He knocks, “Open for me, my sister, My love, my dove, my perfect one; For my head is drenched with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.”
And I heard a voice out of the heaven saying to me, “Write, ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Master from now on.’ ” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “in order that they rest from their labours, and their works follow with them.”