Add parallel Print Page Options

“I sleep, but my heart waketh; it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, ‘Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew and my locks with the drops of the night.’

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my heart was moved for him.

Read full chapter