Christ the Beloved.

O THOU, in whose presence my soul takes delight, On whom in affliction I call; My comfort by day and my song in the night, My hope, my salvation, my all.

Ye daughters of Zion, declare have you seen, The Star that on Israel shone? Say, if in your tents my Beloved has been, And where with his flock he has gone?

This is my Beloved; his form is divine; His vestments shed odors around; The locks on his head are as grapes on the vine, When autumn with plenty is crowned.

His voice, as the sound of the dulcimer sweet, Is heard through the shadow of death; The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet; The air is perfumed with his breath.

His lips as a fountain of righteousness flow, To water the gardens of grace; From which their salvation the gentiles shall know, And bask in the smiles of his face.

He looks, and ten thousands of angels rejoice, And myriads wait for his word; He speaks. and eternity, filled with his voice, Re-echoes the praise of the Lord.