Noah Webster Bible

Song of Solomon 7

The Song of Songs, Which is Solomon's

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Chapter 8

1

 

  O that thou wert as my brother, that was nourished at the breasts of my mother! when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yes, I should not be despised. 

 

 


2

 

  I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate. 

 

 


3

 

  His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me. 

 

 


4

 

  I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not, nor awake my love, until he please. 

 

 


5

 

  Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple-tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth that bore thee. 

 

 


6

 

  Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals of it are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. 

 

 


7

 

  Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. 

 

 


8

 

  We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for? 

 

 


9

 

  If she is a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver: and if she is a door, we will inclose her with boards of cedar. 

 

 


10

 

  I am a wall, and my breasts like towers: then was I in his eyes as one that found favor. 

 

 


11

 

  Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he let out the vineyard to keepers; every one for the fruit of it was to bring a thousand pieces of silver. 

 

 


12

 

  My vineyard which is mine, is before me: thou, O Solomon, must have a thousand, and those that keep the fruit of it two hundred. 

 

 


13

 

  Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: cause me to hear it. 

 

 


14

 

  Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of spices. 

 

 


Isaiah 1

 

 

 

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