Song of Songs 6:3, “I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine…”
Where is the Lover of your soul?
Where is the crown’ed King?
We saw Him sealed ‘neath silent stone
We heard Him cease to sing.
Yea, truly have your eyes beheld
For truly He has come
Down to the depths of deepest hell
For here my soul is found.
And with His coming, He has made
A Paradise of Death.
For now the Star of Morning, laid
Beside my curse’ed flesh,
Does burn with that almighty Flame
Bright-flashing from His Breast—
The very Fire of the Name—
His breathing now my Breath.
Where is the Lover of my soul?
Descended to His Bride,
Within His Garden, there to hold
Me to His wounded side.
Down to the beds of spices He, all wrapped in linen, comes
With myrrh and nard and frankincense—Life burning in His lungs.
He breathes and Hades’ charnel hall become the House of Wine;
Now I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine.
