I Am Come into My Garden — Song of Solomon 5:4–8

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

I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the bolt.

I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

The watchmen that go about the city found me, They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my mantle from me.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from love.