Like an apricot tree among the trees of the forest, so is my love among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
My love is fit and strong, notable among ten thousand.
His head is purest gold. His hair is wavy and black as a raven.
His eyes are like doves beside streams of water, washed in milk and set like jewels.
His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.
His arms are rods of gold set with topaz. His body is an ivory panel covered with sapphires.
His legs are alabaster pillars set on pedestals of pure gold. His presence is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.
His mouth is sweetness. He is absolutely desirable. This is my love, and this is my friend, young women of Jerusalem.
You are the most handsome of men; grace flows from your lips. Therefore God has blessed you forever.
How lovely and beautiful they will be! Grain will make the young men flourish, and new wine, the young women.
More than that, I also consider everything to be a loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Because of Him I have suffered the loss of all things and consider them filth, so that I may gain Christ
and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own from the law, but one that is through faith in Christ-- the righteousness from God based on faith.
Then I looked, and heard the voice of many angels around the throne, and also of the living creatures, and of the elders. Their number was countless thousands, plus thousands of thousands.
They said with a loud voice: The Lamb who was slaughtered is worthy to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing!
I heard every creature in heaven, on earth, under the earth, on the sea, and everything in them say: Blessing and honor and glory and dominion to the One seated on the throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever!
It is Solomon's royal litter surrounded by 60 warriors from the mighty of Israel.
Your people will volunteer on Your day of battle. In holy splendor, from the womb of the dawn, the dew of Your youth belongs to You.