Song of Songs
My Beloved comes running to me on the mountains,
His footsteps, like hind's feet, leap gloriously high!
His voice, sweet as turtledoves, awakens my sleeping,
And I, all enraptured, can only reply:
"Ah, yes, my Beloved, I rise up to meet Thee,
My being all quickened to answer Thy call,
Draw me, Beloved, and I shall run after,
Thy banner spread o'er us in Thy banquet hall!"
The winter is over, the rain is now passing,
The flowers appear on the earth; it is spring!
The sound of rejoicing, my heart joins the anthem,
O, Come, all creation, and joyously sing!
And so in the dawning and into the sunset,
Together we soar through His kingdom of Grace!
All earth-ties now severed, no vestige remaining,
Only the rapture of His lovely face!