Song 5.2 |Open

I sleep, death has no victory,
But my heart waketh: I hear his sound.
It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, 
I am his, a sheep of his fold,
Saying, Open to me, 
My sister, joint-heir;
My love, chosen;
My dove, ravished;
My undefiled: sanctified.
For my head is filled with dew, 
To the satisfying of the soul,
And my locks with the drops of the night.
Fueled by tears, purified by suffering.

Song 5.1 |On the Supper

I am come into my garden, the place of fellowship
My sister, my spouse: O Church.
I have gathered my myrrh, the residue of resurrection
With my spice; 
I have eaten my honeycomb, in the presence of friends
With my honey; 
I have drunk my wine at the supper
With my milk: 
Eat, O friends; enjoy the body broken,
Drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved,
The cup that represents blood poured out
For many.