Song of Solomon 2:8–3:5

There are so many beautiful thoughts in this inspired comparison of our Lord to a gazelle or a young hart. It leaps on the mountains, skips on the hills, and speeds on its way to its mate. "Leaping upon the mountains": His energy never runs out. No mountain can hinder Him as He speeds on His way, full of grace and beauty, drawn by the affection of His heart to His loved one. The Hebrew word for hart means "a very strong one." It is a stronger form of a root word that means strong. The word roe means glorious, beautiful or pleasant. Power, glory and beautiful grace all combine in Christ in all their perfection.

Power never wins the heart, only love and grace can do that. So the inspired writer speaks of Christ as the gazelle or young hart when He is winning the hearts of His own. In Revelation 5 it is a question of Christ taking the government of the world into His own hands. Until then that world is in rebellion against God. There Christ is called "the Lion of the tribe of Judah," and no one can stand against His majesty and power.

The first song presents a day scene, with the King sitting at his table. In the second song, the enjoyment of love in the King's presence is past. It opens with the bride resting in her home in the plains, with its latticed windows. While the Bridegroom is away, she has turned back to her own home, in her own land. She is like Peter at a later time, who said, when Christ was absent, "I am going fishing."

The King awakens the affections of the bride by the sound of his voice. But he does more. In patience he stands waiting at the wall of the house. Then he shows himself through the lattice and attracts her by the beauty of his person. Was it not so that Christ dealt with those two disappointed disciples on the road to Emmaus? He first made their hearts burn within them as He talked with them by the way. Then He stands at the door of their house like a traveller. At last He reveals Himself to them — just a glance, as it were, through the lattice — and He is gone. And in the same way He deals with His beloved people today.

This is first of all a prophecy of the Lord appearing to deliver the Jewish remnant at the close of the great tribulation. So we find the remnant, the beloved of the Lord, here in these verses, hiding behind the wall of protection He has provided for her. She waits and listens for the voice of her beloved coming to deliver her. She hears Him coming and knows His voice. He comes up to her place of refuge and looks in at her window. The winter with its cold and storms stands for the great tribulation. That has now given way to the beautiful springtime of the millennial age.

A little while ago she could only make out the sound of His voice. She could catch a glimpse of His eye through the lattice-work. But now, O happy bride, He is near enough for her to hear the words of His mouth. To faith, blessed be His name, He is always present… Still, personally, He is not here. He is in heaven, we are on earth.

It is the Lord Himself, as Messiah the King, that the loving bride so longs after here... A little while ago she could only make out the sound of His voice, and catch a glimpse of His eye through the lattice-work. But now, happy bride, He is near enough for her to hear the words of His mouth. To faith, blessed be His name, He is always present.

The King would no longer be without his bride; he would call her away from the dark wintry plains to fairer, brighter scenes. His first word would rouse her from her circumstances: "Rise up." His next word declares how precious she is in his sight: "My love, my fair one." Last of all, she hears the clear, definite call: "Come away." It tells of the longing of his heart.

Not only does she say, "The voice of my beloved," but she gives His words. "My beloved spoke, and said to me, Rise up, my love" — for this is meant to fill her heart with confidence in His love — "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away."

He still calls His bride "My love, my fair one," despite all our coldness, our wanderings, and our breakdown. Should that not move our hearts to their very depths?

It all shows that this refers to the time when the remnant of Israel knows Him and is enjoying the blessings and glories promised to them. The winter is past, the time of death and coldness; the rain is over, springtime is at hand. The morning without clouds is breaking! Flowers appear; the birds begin their song... the fig tree puts out her green figs (the national fruit-bearing of the once cursed fig tree); the vines too begin to give the tender grapes. Who cannot see in the imagery of all these statements that millennial times are about to begin! Then there is His call to her, "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." Be wholly for Me!

The King not only calls the bride from her home in the plains. He also unfolds to her a new world of blessing, where neither storm nor winter's blast can ever come. There all is beautiful to the eye, sweet to the ear, and pleasant to the taste — the land of flowers and singing, the land of green figs and the new wine. The presence of the bride is all that is lacking to complete the blessedness of that scene.

And is it not in this way the Lord is speaking to His people today? Can we not hear His voice saying to us, "Rise up," as He seeks to rouse us from the spiritual sluggishness that overcomes us and holds us down to earth?... Moreover, do we not hear Him calling us away from this poor world, as He says, "You are not of this world, but I have chosen you out of the world"? And shall we not very soon hear His voice saying, "Come away," as He calls us to meet Him in the air?

His mind is set on winning her out of her place into His. He therefore rouses her with the repeated call, "Arise, My love, My fair one, and come away." But she is not ready for this. Her heart is more taken up with the blessings than with the Blesser, though the blessing is Himself... It is one thing to have the Saviour, and quite another to follow Him.

"My beloved spoke and said to me, Rise up, my love" — for this is meant to fill her heart with confidence in His love — "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For behold, the winter is past" — the long winter of Israel.

Many have thought and said that Israel's winter would last forever, and that no spring or summer would ever return for the cast-off nation. But no one ever learned such thoughts from the book of God. There we read in the plainest terms that in due time "He shall cause them that come of Jacob to take root. Israel shall blossom and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit." The warm beams of "the Sun of Righteousness" will chase away the gloom and barrenness of their long winter forever.

The winter is past, the time of death and coldness; the rain is over, spring-time is at hand. The morning without clouds is breaking! Flowers appear; the birds begin their song; the cooing of the bird of love, the turtle dove, is heard. The fig tree also puts out its green figs — the once cursed fig tree bearing fruit as a nation again. The vines, too, begin to give tender grapes. Who cannot see in all these pictures that millennial times are about to begin!

The early rain came in October and November, and the latter rain in March and April. Spiritually, there was an early rain for Israel when the Lord Jesus came in lowly grace to suffer and die on Calvary. But Israel was not even grateful for this and took no advantage of it. Since then she has been passing through the winter of cold unbelief toward her Messiah. That winter will reach its worst in the great tribulation. But the springtime, "the time of the singing of birds," will follow this long distress. Then the godly in Israel will be awakened to pray earnestly for the latter rain.

The full blaze of millennial glory will clearly not burst all at once on the land of Israel and the nations. It will come by degrees, like winter passing away and spring and summer slowly arriving. So the bride needs faith. But He cheers her heart with the assurance that the day of her deliverance draws near. He wants her to know that His eye is on her, and that she should wait patiently.

When the blessed Lord Jesus went down into death to destroy the one who had the power of death, there was not a breath for God in the whole universe. Everything lay in death, in the grip of winter... So the blessed Lord rose out of death, having burst its iron gates and destroyed its power for ever. In His resurrection there is the dawn of a new day, life from the dead. The winter is past and gone, the time of the singing of birds is come.

The waiting-time has been long — the patience of Christ. But before He went He said, "I will come again and receive you to Myself." Soon, very soon, the winter-time will be past and the waiting-time will be over. He will come to fetch His bride, and we shall hear His call, "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!"

Many have thought and said that Israel's winter would last for ever — that no spring or summer would ever return for the cast-off nation. But no one ever learned that from the book of God. There we read in the plainest terms that in due time "He shall cause them that come of Jacob to take root. Israel shall blossom and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit." The budding flowers, the ripening figs, the blooming vines, the singing of birds and the voice of the turtledove are sure signs. They show not only that winter is past but that spring has come. Nothing in the bride's vineyard is ripe yet. But the opening bud of promise is a sure pledge of a glorious summer and an abundant autumn.

Wherever the older Authorised Version uses the word "turtle," it always means the turtle-dove. These birds belong to the pigeon family. They are plentiful in Palestine, where there are several species. Even the poorest could easily get them for the offerings, and a pair of them was brought when the Lord was presented in the temple. They announce the coming of spring, and their return from migration makes them a symbol of fruitfulness.

The winter is past, the time of death and coldness; the rain is over, springtime is at hand. The morning without clouds is breaking! Flowers appear. The birds begin their song. You can hear the cooing of the bird of love, the turtledove. The fig tree also puts out her green figs — the national fruit-bearing of the fig tree that was once cursed. The vines too begin to give the tender grapes. Who cannot see in the imagery of all these statements that millennial times are about to begin!

Israel has been passing through the winter of cold unbelief toward her Messiah. That winter will reach its worst in the great tribulation. But the springtime, "the time of singing," will follow this long distress.

So it was with the blessed Lord Jesus. He went down into death to destroy the one who had the power of death. There was not a breath for God in the whole universe. Everything lay in death, in the grip of winter. The disciples' hopes went into the grave with Him. God's ways are wonderful. The way of life lay through death. In His resurrection there is the dawn of a new day, life from the dead. The winter is past and gone, the time of singing has come.

All the darker and colder age is past. That whole order of things which kept the soul in bondage and fear is over. Now the voice of the turtledove sounds — the voice of that perfect love which casts out fear. The believer should now rise up and take his place as the loved and beautiful one. He can be fully sure that grace has made him spotless and lovely, and that his Lord fully favours him and delights in him.

He can look beyond the darkness and the judgment and open to our view a new home. There faith will be changed to sight — the flowers will appear. There the time of weeping will be past and the time of singing will have come. There the voice of the dove will be heard, as the saints join to sing the new song of glory to the Lamb.

He Himself tells her to arise, that the winter is past — the time of mourning and sorrow. He desires also to hear her voice. So her heart is reassured: her Beloved is hers. How truly all this shows divine affections and confidence waking up in the remnant, who had so long learned what it was to have Jehovah's face hidden. And how fully the love of Him who wept over Jerusalem — a love nothing can put out — is at work to awaken this confidence and assure the heart of the afflicted people. It is not instruction about circumstances or responsibility, but grace — Christ's (Jehovah's) own relationship with Israel.

Here in these verses of the Song of Solomon we find the remnant, the beloved of the Lord. She is hiding behind the wall of protection He has provided for her. We see she is in a waiting attitude, listening for the voice of her beloved coming for her deliverance. She hears Him coming and knows His voice... The winter, with its cold and storms, pictures the great tribulation. That has now given way to the beautiful springtime of the millennial age. She can now leave her place of refuge and enter with Him into His glorious reign, which the prophets spoke of so often.

"For behold, the winter is past" — the long winter of Israel... "The fig tree ripens its figs" — you can see here the parable of the fig tree that the Lord refers to in Matthew 24.

The fig tree puts out its early figs (the national fruit-bearing of the once cursed fig tree); the vines, too, begin to give the tender grapes. Who cannot see in the imagery of all these statements that millennial times are about to begin!

Many have thought and said that Israel's winter would last forever, and that no spring or summer would ever return for the cast-off nation. But such thoughts were never learned from the book of God. There we read in the plainest terms that in due time God will cause the descendants of Jacob to take root. Israel will blossom and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit. The budding flowers, the ripening figs, the blooming vines, the singing of birds, the voice of the turtle-dove — these are sure signs. They show not only that winter is past but that spring has come. And though nothing in the bride's vineyard is ripe yet, the opening bud of promise is a sure pledge of a glorious summer and an abundant autumn.

The King would no longer be without his bride. He would call her away from the dark wintry plains to fairer, brighter scenes. His first word would rouse her from her circumstances: "Arise." His next word proclaims how precious she is in his sight: "my love, my beautiful one." And then comes the clear, definite call: "come away" — telling of the longing of his heart.

The King not only calls the bride from her home in the plains. He also unfolds to her a new world of blessing, where neither storm nor winter's blast can ever come. There all is beautiful to the eye, sweet to the ear, and pleasant to the taste — the land of flowers and singing, the land of green figs and the new wine. The presence of the bride is all that is lacking to complete the blessedness of that scene. So the King ends with the call, "Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away!"

In its primary application it is a prophecy of Christ, the Messiah of Israel. He is wooing to Himself the heart of the Jewish remnant, after the Church has been caught up to glory... But the love of the Lord to Israel, His earthly bride, is only a shadow or reflection of His deeper love to His heavenly bride. When we realize this, we find immense profit in applying these beautiful figures to ourselves.

Even today, while waiting for the Lord, His people have enemies to oppose, and storms to face. But grace has provided a hiding place and a shelter from the storm. As we read, "A Man shall be as a hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land" (Isa. 32:1-2). In the cleft of that Rock — the Man Christ Jesus, with the pierced side — how safe from the storm are the Lord's poor people, who are much like a timid dove.

No bird of prey can ever harm her there. All the vultures of hell cannot touch a feather of her wing. She is far above their highest flight. But might she lose her hold some day, in an unguarded moment, and at last fall to those who are seeking to devour her? If her security depended in the least degree on her holding fast, all would be lost in a moment. But, bless God, everything depends on the hold which Jesus has. It is the rock that holds her, not she that holds the rock.

But her voice is sweet to her Beloved, and He loves to hear it. It still sounds like the mournful note of the dove that sits alone, mourning for its mate. Her face is lovely: she is beautiful to Him, however marred by persecution, suffering, and trial. And He seeks to see her — to hear her; oh, deepest, tenderest, kindest love!

Despite all her obvious shortcomings, the bride appears in the blameless character of the dove. Then as to safety, she is in the clefts of the Rock of Ages. As to approach, she is not in the secret places of the stairs, as the King James Version puts it, but in the secret of the stairs. Stairs are for access to a higher place, and so the bride knows well the way and privilege of access... The literal meaning of the Greek word translated "boldness" is "freedom of speech." How wonderful that the believer should have perfect freedom of speech before One in whose presence, in an earlier age, everyone fell down speechless!

Thank God for the moment when a soul first speaks words to Jesus, words that He loves to hear ("Let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet," Song of Solomon 2:14). These are not merely the cry of distress, but words of praise, thanksgiving, and worship from an overwhelming sense of His love and goodness.

The King has expressed His longing to see the face of His bride, and to hear her voice. But foxes and their young spoil the vineyards as they break into bloom. In the same way, evils of a secret and subtle nature may often be at work, hindering the bride from refreshing the heart of the King.

The fruit is still green and tender. The vines are only beginning to blossom. The vineyard must be guarded. The little foxes have sharp teeth, and though little, they are cunning and do great damage among the vines. During the bleakness and barrenness of winter there is no cover in the vineyards for the fox. The leafless bough offers no attraction. But when spring revives, they find plenty of shelter, and good opportunities to do their damage. Watch, then, my soul, the state of your own heart. Watch especially against the daily cares of this present life, and the thousand things that tend to spoil your fruitfulness. Abide in the true vine, and draw your nourishment from His roots. Then you will bear much fruit to the Father's glory.

John baptised the Lord in the Jordan, and God showed His good pleasure in Him. At once the Lord faced Satan's schemes in the wilderness. In the same way, after seasons of great spiritual refreshment, the Christian will surely be tested. So he must guard against the raids of the little foxes. They will finally rob him of the fruit of the vine — the joy of salvation!

Notice the gracious way in which the Lord asks us to deal with these sly little foxes that slip in almost unnoticed and spoil our fruitfulness and fellowship with Him. Knowing that we can do nothing in our own strength, He invites us to work with Him in taking these little foxes. "Let us," He says, "take the foxes." He does not say, "Now you see to it that the little foxes don't get in and spoil the vine." That would throw us back on our own responsibility and our own strength and would end in failure. But He says, "Let us take the little foxes," inviting us in our weakness to count on His strength and help.

We let some fox — a little one, as nature counts — work unnoticed in the secret of our hearts. Pride, covetousness, lust, unkind and bitter thoughts, complaining and discontent, irritability and impatience, jealousy and envy, or vanity and frivolity, may go unjudged. They hinder our fellowship with Him, and the life becomes unfruitful. We need to keep a sharp watch against the raids of these foxes, and drive them out without mercy if they appear.

While the keeper of the vineyard slept, the fox was doing its work of destruction... the tender grapes were gone... While the vine-grower looked sadly on his ruined vine, the thought crossed his mind — thank God! the root remains. For even the foxes of hell may not dig up the roots of any plant of the Father's planting. But the damage done to his promising vine was such that for a long time to come it would bear little fruit.

Her heart is more taken up with the blessings than with the Blesser, though the blessing is Himself... Conscience tells her that something is hindering the power and fruitfulness of her soul. "Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards" (v. 15); but she cannot bring herself to follow Him. It is one thing to have the Saviour, and quite another to follow Him.

The millennial reign will be a time of unmatched blessing and fruitfulness. His sceptre of righteousness will deal with every evil the moment it appears, before it grows into greater harm. The little foxes are taken at once, before they have time to spoil the vine or grow into more destructive agents. Redeemed Israel — especially those who stand firm for Christ through bitter persecution — will share with Him in this righteous government.

We have listened to her speak with admiring delight about His many excellent qualities. Still her heart was seeking possession — relationship. When you have the person, you have all his qualities and virtues. He Himself is mine... Now she sees what is coming. She looks ahead to the relationship, and she can say with certainty — He is mine! Blessed triumph! Happy victory! Now she speaks not of the fruits of His love, or of His excellencies, but of Himself. All are included in the Person.

You cannot say of a husband or wife, a child, companion or friend, or of any earthly possessions or goods, "This is mine," except in a temporary and passing sense. The rich man in Luke 12 said to himself, "Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years." But God said to him, "Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?" So it is with every earthly relationship or possession. It is only temporary, and must pass away sooner or later. But the one who can say of Christ, He is mine, has a companion, a friend, a possession that shall never pass away.

They think it would be claiming too much. Surely they forget that He says it first. And can it be claiming too much to say that His word is true?... But how did they come to love Him? Just because He first loved them. As John says, "We love because He first loved us." We never anticipate Christ. He creates the desire that He may satisfy it. He creates the love that He may meet it. He creates the faith that He may answer it... So we may truly say: to desire Christ is to have Him; to desire His salvation is to have it.

The world can no longer say I am its own; the enemy cannot say, I am his. That precious word settles all, "you are Christ's," and no one else's... He bought us at a price. We are His because He bought us — and the price was His precious blood. But is it not enough, O my soul, to know that you are His — His now, and for ever — in time and through all eternity?

The King has already compared the bride to a lily. He has opened to her all the thoughts of his heart. So she comes to realise that his food and his delight is in herself... During the night of Christ's absence what is there to minister to His heart except His beloved people?... He would indeed have us with Himself in the glory where He is, but during the time of shadows He delights to come to His own.

The remnant was once persecuted so badly by the enemy. What a joy it will be to their hearts to see the great Shepherd of Israel feeding His flock among the lilies! There everything speaks of peace, abundance and fullness of blessing. But the highest of all her joys is this: this glorious Shepherd is her Bridegroom, her Beloved, her very own.

Observe, the first thought is "He is mine." This is her own most blessed interest in Christ; still it is herself that is first. Do not many of us get this far and no further? We rest contented and happy in what we have in Christ, and there is no progress in the knowledge of what Christ is in Himself.

The full assurance of His love, and the happy enjoyment of Himself by faith, greatly increase her desire for the day of His glory. Then "the shadows flee." All the symbols and shadows are fulfilled in Him, so they pass away when He appears. Now we see in a mirror dimly; then, face to face. We shall see the same Jesus then as we see now, but the dim glass will be gone. "We shall see him as he is." For Israel, the Sun of Righteousness will rise. His beams will chase away forever all the darkness of night, and all the gloom of their long, dreary winter.

While they wait for the shadows to flee, the remnant will have to go through the dark days of the great tribulation. Their road runs over rough, trackless mountains of difficulty — "the mountains of Bether." Bether means cloven, that is, full of ravines. So it may well stand for the hardships and painful trials the remnant will go through during the tribulation. But the Lord will be her refuge in her time of trouble. The gazelle or young stag is always there on the mountains of Bether. Where trouble is, there the Lord is always found, "a very present help in trouble" (Psalm 46).

She is still in the wilderness. Her trials are many. Like a country cut up by mountains and valleys, the pathway is difficult. She longs for her Beloved to come in power and glory, with the swiftness of the gazelle or the stag, on the mountains of division. What are the mountains and the valleys to the swift gazelle? They are as nothing. What are all the difficulties of Israel's full restoration to the Lord? They are as nothing. But until that moment comes, she prays to be kept in the enjoyment of His love. Faith lays hold of the word. Hope looks out for the first streak of day. Prayer asks for the present enjoyment of His gracious purpose.

The bride expresses the longing of her heart for other visits from the King, just as the gazelles and the young stags come down from the mountains by night to feed in the plains. So, indeed, may we welcome every occasion on which the Lord comes into the midst of His people as they pass through this dark world.

His mind is set on winning her out of her place into His. So He calls her again and again, "Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away" (vv. 10, 13). But she is not ready. Her heart is taken up more with the blessings than with the Blesser, though the blessing is Himself. Conscience tells her that something hinders the power and fruitfulness of her soul. "Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards" (v. 15); but she cannot persuade herself to follow Him. It is one thing to have the Saviour, and quite another to follow Him. "Not yet," she says, in effect — "turn, my beloved …" — but I cannot go with You yet.

We may well echo the wish that ends the book. It is no longer, as in this verse, "Until the day breathes and the shadows flee … turn, my beloved … on the mountains." It is, "Make haste, my beloved … on the mountains of spices."

He had shown himself through the lattice. He had opened up to his bride the vision of another and brighter world — a world of sunshine and song. He had called her to get up and come to that good land beyond the mountains and the hills. Then, having awakened her affections, he had withdrawn to his own place, and the bride is left behind in the night. She has heard of the day and looks forward to the daybreak, but she is still in the night. The presence of the King will bring the day, just as his absence makes the night.

The conscience is awake — the affections are lively: "I sought him whom my soul loves." Yet there is no joy — she is in trouble... A lively conscience — ardent affections, yet in darkness! There can only be one cause for such a state of soul — the eye does not rest on the Beloved Himself. There may seem to be other causes, but this is the real one... She has rest as to salvation; "my bed" — a resting place: though for a moment, it is "night" with the soul.

It matters little, for the purpose of the enemy, what the eye rests on, so long as he can get it off Christ. It may rest on the best of things: the work of the Lord, our fellow believers, love for one another, the fellowship of the saints. But even these things, good as they are, will lead to failure. That happens when any one of them becomes the ruling object of the heart in place of the Person of Christ.

Though she sought the Bridegroom she has to admit, more than once, "I found him not." Why is this? Is she not seeking the right person? Indeed she is, but at first she seeks him in a wrong way. She says, "On my bed, I sought him." She sought him, but at the same time she sought to keep her ease... How many of us would like to have Christ if we could spare the flesh. The love of Christ would drive us to follow after Christ, but the love of ease holds us back.

She is not seeking the daybreak, the time of singing, or the land of song. It is a person, himself, that she longs to see. In her eyes he is fairer than the fairest land, and better than all the blessings he brings. When love is awakened, Christ alone can satisfy the heart of the Christian. As homesick saints we welcome the thought that soon the last tear will be wiped away... but as lovesick saints we want "Jesus Himself." ... The heavenly city, with its walls of jasper, its gates of pearl and its streets of gold, would be no heaven without Christ.

The soul, I admit, may feel when in darkness as if He had withdrawn Himself and was gone. But in such a case it is the soul that has withdrawn itself from Him; not the Lord that has withdrawn Himself from it... The Lord is always the same. He does not change. When there is a change in our communion — in our enjoyment of Christ — it lies entirely with ourselves.

In Canticles 3 we have another attitude, another state of heart. She is alone and in darkness. She seeks her Beloved, but does not find Him. There is affection, but no joy... The chapter confirms the application to Israel. In her solitary state she seeks the Messiah, and, after asking those who watched, soon found Him whom her soul loved.

Her position and her action have changed, but she finds no rest. She has shaken off the spirit of laziness. Her cry is the language of a soul in earnest. But the streets and open squares of the city, where watchmen keep moral order, are not the places to find her Beloved. "He feeds among the lilies." She knew this well. She is simply confused and troubled, as many have been in similar situations... But if her inactivity was failure, her activity was a mistake.

The city here, well guarded by its watchmen, stands for an organized society. It is a world that man has built up and ordered for his own satisfaction and pleasure, without Christ. There is no place for Him there. She seeks in vain to find Him in its streets. When He came in grace they rejected Him. They led Him outside of their city and crucified Him. Therefore we read in Hebrews 13:12-14, "Jesus also suffered outside the gate. Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come."

For the third time the bride fails in her quest. She has sought the Bridegroom in the wrong way, she has sought Him in the wrong place, now she appeals to the wrong people. The business of the watchmen is to govern and keep order. They may administer righteousness, but they cannot help in the quest of love... So it is useless to appeal to human power. Christians from early times have fallen into this trap, and learned only that the rulers of this world crucified the Lord of glory.

"The watchmen found me as they went about in the city" — the guardians of order, but what could they say? What could they do? "To whom I said, Have you seen him whom my soul loves"; for she does confess now. It is not only that she has the affection, but she owns it even to them, although it might seem the wrong place for it. But she does it anyway.

If she had been in heaven instead of the city, and had not found Him there, it would have been just the same. She must have continued her search... It was Himself she was seeking, the Person of her blessed Lord — and nothing else, nothing besides, could take His place. Only the love of the Saviour can satisfy the love of the saved. Only the love of the Bridegroom can satisfy the love of the bride.

In the first part of the third chapter of the Song of Solomon we have a prophecy. A small faithful group in Israel is awakened, while the nation as a whole is still in the darkness of the night before the Lord comes... She has no rest in the world order where she is — the city with its watchmen (vv. 2, 3). So she starts to seek her Messiah in earnest, and at last finds Him outside of that order of things.

We know the Lord in another way altogether: we know Him in heaven. That is our proper way of knowing Him. She has these views of Him in advance, and at the same time she is being trained to know His love more deeply before He comes.

I have already shown the importance of this statement that comes in now and again in the book. It always introduces a fresh view of the matter and of the Lord as anticipated by the heart of Jerusalem. Here you must remember that Jerusalem is to be the chosen bride — not the Jerusalem on high, and not the Jerusalem that now is, but the Jerusalem that is to be, born of God. She is to be the bride of the King when He comes again into this world.

The same charge occurs in 8:4. Each time she gives it, the coming of the Lord follows at once. In chapter 2:7, it is the revelation of Himself. "The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes." It is Himself, personally, who is in view there. In 3:5, it is the Messiah coming in royal procession. He is the true Solomon, crowned King of Israel by the heart of the nation. In chapter 8:4, we see the bride leaving the wilderness united to Him. This is marked progress. "Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?"

The Hebrew reads "till it please", and the context must make clear whether it is he or she. We have the same verse in chapter 2 verse 7. There the verse before it shows that it is she who rests in His strong embrace, asleep, while He watches with tender care that nothing disturbs her rest. So here also in 3:5. She leaves everything to search for Him alone. Having found Him, she brings Him into her own home. Then we find her fully at rest, asleep in His arms, while He watches that nothing disturbs her peace. She could not rest in her own bed without Him, but now in His arms — what rest, what peace is hers!

Here in chapter 3:5 and 8:4 the word is not the one used in verse 2 and elsewhere, but ahavah (the love). If it were ray-ah (love, or companion) the answer would have to be "she". But the feminine form of the verb depends on ahavah, so the sense must decide the question. I am inclined to think the English version is right. The beloved One rests in His love.

When the soul is occupied with Him in this way, He above all others is most careful that it should not be disturbed. The gazelles and the does are the most easily startled creatures in the field. Their hearing is so sharp that a distant sound of danger will alarm them. We should all be just as sensitive to the faintest approach of anything that would spoil our walk and communion with the Lord. We should be just as alert to whatever would turn us aside from paths of practical holiness and complete devotion to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Why is it that so many true Christians are strangers to solid peace and rest, not to mention joy and love? Simply because Christ Himself is not the one object before the mind and the heart. The moment Christ gets His right place in the heart, everything else drops into its own right place according to divine order. But if anything is allowed to come between the heart and Christ, the Holy Spirit is grieved, the soul is darkened, weakness and confusion follow, and the whole moral being gets out of order.