If she be a wall, Flat and two-dimensional, We will build upon her a palace of silver. With hands of love will we do. And if she be a door, Plain and unadorned, We will inclose her with boards of cedar. With hands of love will we do. This is the work of her family.
We have a little sister, A daughter of our mother, And she hath no breasts. Her beauty is eternal, Yet men look on the outward appearance. What shall we do for our sister, A joint heir with us, To comfort her as she waits? In the day when she shall be spoken for?
Many waters cannot quench love, It burns too bright. Neither can the floods drown it: Steady as the rock if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, It cannot be bought, and It would utterly be contemned.
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, You’ve written my name Upon the palm of your hand. As a seal upon thine arm: A token to remember my tears. For love is strong as death; But where is it’s sting? Jealousy is cruel as the grave: Yet peace flows among brethren! The coals thereofContinue reading “Song 8:6 |The Grave”