and the dove hath not found rest for the sole of her foot, and she turneth back unto him, unto the ark, for waters `are' on the face of all the earth, and he putteth out his hand, and taketh her, and bringeth her in unto him, unto the ark.
My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice `is' sweet, and thy appearance comely.