Song of Solomon 7:1-5 How beautiful are your feet in sandals, O prince's daughter! The curves of your thighs are like jewels, The work of the hands of a skillful workman, Your navel is a roun ded goblet; It lacks no blended beverage. Your waist is a heap of wheat set about with lilies. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like an ivory tower; your eyes like the pools in Heshbon, By the gate of Bath Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looks toward Damascus. Your head crowns you li ke Mount Carmel, and the hair of your head is like purple. A king is held captive by your tresses.
The Daughters of Jerusalem expresses their agreement about the bride's unique beauty.
"Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel, and the hair of your head is like purpole. A king is held captive by your tresses."
The Master Painter has expressed his heart for the soul of the canvas. "You have held me captive by your tresses. I find great delight as I paint each stroke of your hair. With purple on my brush, I make each stroke of your hair with precise design. I am captived by your beauty."
The Canvas responds, " I do not see what holds you to me. I am not worthy of your attention and yet I feel smug in who I am. Why is that? .
The Master Painter continues, "There is a rthymn that dances on the canvas as if green leaves design your garment and twine around your torsel and adorn your neck of ivory. You are my poem, you are the expression of my heart, I have created you from the beauty of my heart and I am held captive as if you have paraded me down the street in a parade. I am not ashamed to be called yours.
Why you feel smug in your design is that you have my heart imprinted on you in love. What could you lack? But you must surrender to the Artist in order to be connected with my beauty and love.
"Cause me to love you, so that I can love myself. I feel the music, the rapsody of the Bohemian, but I do not feel your love. Is it because I still love myself too much?"
His response, "Yes, my fair one, How pleasant you are, O love, with your delights. "
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