They all hold swords, mine is His Word. Being expert in war they martial their might, Every man hath his sword, ready and sharp. Upon his thigh the scabbard rests, Because of fear of the enemy. in the night, I pretend I am in their number.
Behold his bed, his place of rest, Which is Solomon’s, of wisdom blessed. Threescore and ten, and maybe more, Valiant men are about it, and yet it ends. Of the valiant sing our song, Of Israel, of Zion, and heavenly shores.
Who is this that calls me? Cometh out of the wilderness and leads me to oasis, Like pillars of smoke which led Israel. Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, Like the incense at the altar, With all powders of the merchant?
I charge you to avoid foolishness, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, citizens of heavenly Zion. By the roes who flee from the lion, And by the hinds of the field, that run form the bear; That ye stir not up your passions, Nor awake my love to judgment, Till he please.