I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, till he please.
Chapter 3 has followed the bride through a long search until she finds the one she loves and holds Him fast. Now she repeats the charge she gave in 2:7 — but who is the sleeper here, and why the warning?
The charge is not filler in a love song. Each time it appears, it opens something new — and it tells us who this bride is.
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.
Watch what comes after each charge. The Lord's coming follows, and each time in a fuller way.
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?"
Older translations read "till he please". Commentators differ over who is resting. One takes the sleeper to be the bride, held safe in His arms.
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!
Another writer reads it the other way, and rests his case on the Hebrew word for love.
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.
Why swear by wild animals at all? Their nature is the whole point of the appeal.
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.
Her rest began only when she found Him. That order explains why so many lose their rest.
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.
- Sought. She could not rest in her own bed without Him. Rest began only when she found Him.
- Found. Once she holds Him, the searching ends and the resting begins. His arms give what her effort could not.
- Guarded. The charge is sworn by the most easily startled animals in the field. Be that alert to anything that would break your communion with Him.
- Disputed. Commentators differ on who rests. Some read the bride asleep in His arms. Others read the Beloved resting in His love. The Hebrew leaves it to the sense.
- Repeated. The same charge returns in 2:7, 3:5 and 8:4. Each time the Lord's coming follows: first Himself, then the crowned King, then the bride leaning on Him out of the wilderness.
Who is this, [she] that cometh up from the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all powders of the merchant? ...
A figure rises out of the desert in a column of smoke, carrying the scent of rich spices. Two questions drive the verse: who is coming up, and why the desert of all places should smell so sweet.
The question comes from onlookers, not from the bride or the King. The ESV reads "What is that," while older translations read "Who is this." One writer works from that older wording.
In this song we no longer see the bride resting on her bed. We no longer see her calling on the grace of the Bridegroom to stir her tired energy and wake her fading love. Instead she enjoys the communion of love. She is coming up from the wilderness on her way to share the glories of the King. The daughters of Jerusalem ask, "Who is this?" or, as it can be translated, "Who is she?"
Commentators differ here. Another writer reads the scene as the Bridegroom Himself, and contrasts how Israel and the church meet Him.
From Song 3:6 to the end of the chapter, we have a prophetic view of the Bridegroom. He comes out of the wilderness with His bride… The Jews do not rise, as the church does, to meet the Lord in the air. He goes to where they are. The spirit of prophecy tells us that they were in the wilderness together. It was there that He revealed Himself to her, in His unchanging love as the true Messiah.
The desert is not an accident in the story. It is where God hid the Jewish remnant, and where He worked on her.
So we see chapter 3:6 as a beautiful picture of the remnant at the end of the great tribulation. The Lord Himself brings her up from the place of refuge He had provided for her. There He had fed her, spoken comfort to her, and purified her by the fiery trials she has passed through. The fire only burned up the dross and purified the silver. That is always the case when the Lord's beloved ones go through fiery trials.
Each part of the image stands for something in the experience of the Lord's own.
Smoke is the result of fire. The myrrh, the frankincense and all the perfumed powders of the eastern merchant stand for those graces that the Spirit of God produces in the heart. They give a sweet fragrance of Christ to the Lord's own who have been passing through deep trials. She has not only been purified and made beautiful by the trials. Through His tender care, and His speaking comfort to her, she has also learned to know the Lord in a fuller, richer way.
The spices come from desert plants. That detail carries the lesson over to the Church's own journey.
The Church has her wilderness journey too. It is the time of her pilgrimage on earth, before the end comes in heavenly glory… The wilderness has its privileges as well as its hardships… It matters spiritually that the powders of the merchant are made from plants gathered in the wilderness. The trials, the testings and the hardships of our wilderness journey, when we take them from the hand of God, become the occasion for developing the graces of Christ. Those graces rise up as a sweet fragrance even now.
Hardship does not sweeten anyone by itself. What decides the outcome is where we keep God when trouble comes.
And we, like Paul, can turn our hardships into privileges. We only need to see that every trial is a God-sent opportunity to call out some Christian grace. Sadly, the trials along the way so often call out some ugly display of the flesh — its tempers and its violence, its envy and its pride, its impatience and its complaining. We open the door to the flesh by letting our wilderness circumstances come between our souls and God. Let us just keep God between ourselves and our circumstances. Then they really will call out the graces of Christ.
This scene is one stage in a pattern. The Song returns to the same picture later, with a difference.
Note that in each case, once the bride has had the Bridegroom rest in His love, she sees Him coming, or He is seen coming… In chapter 3:6, He comes in royal splendour and power, in Israel, as king Solomon on his wedding day. In chapter 8:5, she is seen coming up out of the desolation, where she had been, leaning on her Beloved.
- Wilderness — the desert is the appointed place of refuge, where He nourishes her, speaks comfort to her, and purifies her by fire.
- Fire — smoke is the result of fire; the trial burns off the dross before anything fragrant rises.
- Fragrance — the myrrh, frankincense and merchant's powders stand for graces the Spirit produces. Their plants grow in the wilderness itself.
- Choice — the same trials can call out the flesh instead. Keep God between yourself and your circumstances, not your circumstances between you and God.
- Answer — watchers ask who this is coming up from the desert. By chapter 8 she is seen leaning on her Beloved.
Behold his couch, Solomon's own Threescore mighty men are about it, Of the mighty of Israel.
The bride comes up out of the wilderness, and every eye turns to the royal couch and the armed men ringing it. Two questions press. Why does a king of peace need sixty swordsmen? And what does this guarded resting place say about the safety of those He loves? (Older translations call the litter a "bed," and render "sixty mighty men" as "threescore valiant men.")
The bride does not supply her own transport. One writer draws out what that means for anyone travelling through this world.
The King provides the bed, or litter, on which the bride travels through the wilderness. In the same way, the Christian does not travel at his own expense, or by his own ideas, but in the way God has provided. But this brings conflict. So the wilderness journey develops Christian graces, and it also calls for Christian warfare. For this we need the "valiant men."
The king named here is Solomon, not David. One writer weighs what each king pictures.
Nothing could be plainer: Solomon is not the picture of Christ in relation to the church. David may be. I do not mean that David always is. But David may be that picture above all others, because he at least knew more of the sufferings of Christ. He shared the rejection in a way Solomon never did. Solomon knew nothing but glory. He was the man of peace. Everything, so to speak, was bright and glorious as far as Solomon was concerned. Clearly the one she looks for here is not a suffering one.
One writer contrasts the path Christians follow now with the scene here, and then points to why the swords are drawn.
This is not the Lamb rejected on earth and glorified in another scene. That is what we Christians look for, and so we are willing now to follow Him — glad to follow Him in His path of rejection. But here it is another thing. Here is a beautiful picture of what is to be, of what belongs to Him. Sixty valiant men surround the bed, valiant men of Israel. "They all hold swords and are expert in war. Every man has his sword on his thigh because of fear in the night." You see, it is not yet day. She is expecting and looking for the day. You find her here, but this is a vision of the night. It is not yet day. She expects the day, looks for it, counts on it; but it has not come.
Commentators differ over whom the scene pictures. Hamilton Smith applies the litter to the believer's journey now. Another writer reads the guarded couch as a promise of peace for a restored Israel.
The bed is the place of rest for the bridegroom and His bride. So here it pictures that glorious rest which the redeemed remnant of Israel will enjoy together with the Lord, the Prince of peace (Solomon means peacefulness). A strong bodyguard of sixty valiant men surrounds the bed. That shows that this glorious rest of our Lord and His redeemed Israel is secure, well guarded against any power that would attack it from outside... Under Christ's mighty scepter of righteousness, redeemed Israel will enjoy peace and blessing beyond compare, and that peace will reach out and embrace the whole world too.
The guards carry swords. One writer names the believer's sword, then presses that owning it is not the same as being ready with it.
In the same way, the good soldier of Jesus Christ is armed with "the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Eph. 6:17).
What is more, we must not only be "armed" and "expert" but ready — every man with "his sword upon his thigh." It was so in Nehemiah's day: "Every man had his sword strapped at his side as he built" (Neh. 4:18). The moment of attack will give no time to strap on the sword. We must be ready to "preach the Word," in season and out of season.
- Provided — The couch belongs to the King. He sets the terms of the journey, and He covers its cost.
- Peaceful — Solomon's name means peacefulness. This king stands in glory, never in rejection or suffering.
- Protected — Sixty of Israel's best encircle the resting place. No outside power can disturb that rest.
- Pending — The swords are out because the day has not yet come. The bride waits for it in the dark.
- Prepared — The believer's sword is the word of God. Wear it on the thigh, because an attack leaves no time to arm.
They all hold the sword, Experts in war; Each hath his sword upon his thigh Because of alarm in the nights.
Sixty of Israel's best soldiers ring Solomon's bed as it travels. Each one is trained, armed, and watching for danger in the night — so what night is this, and why does a king of peace need a guard?
The Solomon of this scene is not a sufferer. One writer draws a sharp line between the two Old Testament kings and what each one pictures:
Nothing can be plainer. Solomon is not the figure of Christ in relation to the church. David may be. I do not mean that David always is. But David may be so above all others, because he at least knew more of the sufferings of Christ. He shared in rejection in a way that Solomon never did. Solomon never knew anything but glory: he was the man of peace. Everything about Solomon was bright and glorious. Clearly the one she looks for is not a suffering one.
One phrase explains the swords: the fear that belongs to night. It also fixes when the scene happens:
Sixty valiant men surround Him — from the valiant men of Israel… for you see it is not yet the day. You must remember that. She is expecting, and looking for the day. You find her here, but it is a vision of the night. She is on her bed, so when she does go forth it is from her bed, and so on. It is not yet the day. The day is expected, looked for, counted on; but not yet come.
The guard is not a sign of weakness in the King. It shows that the rest at the centre of the picture is guarded rest. Commentators read that rest forward into Christ's coming reign:
The bed is the place of rest for the bridegroom and His bride. So it pictures the glorious rest that the redeemed remnant of Israel will enjoy with the Lord, the Prince of peace. (Solomon means peacefulness.) A strong bodyguard of sixty valiant men guards the bed. This shows that the glorious rest of our Lord and His redeemed Israel is safe from any power that would attack from outside… There will be ample power to deal with any force that would seek to disturb that wonderful peace.
Commentators apply the picture differently. One takes the litter as the Christian's own journey — supplied by the King, and guarded because that journey means conflict:
The bed, or litter, on which the bride journeys through the wilderness is provided by the King. In the same way the Christian does not travel at his own expense, or by his own ideas. He travels the way that God has provided. But this involves conflict. The wilderness journey develops Christian graces, and it also calls for Christian warfare. For this we need the "valiant men." Paul urges Timothy to "be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus." He also says, "Endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ" (2 Tim. 2:1-3).
The verse says three things about each man: he holds a sword, he is expert with it, and he wears it. Owning the weapon is not the same as handling it well:
So too the good soldier of Jesus Christ is armed with "the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Eph. 6:17)… But to have Scripture is not all that is needed. We must be expert in the use of Scripture. So Paul further urges Timothy to hold "an outline of sound words," "rightly dividing the Word of truth" (2 Tim. 1:13; 2 Tim. 2:15).
The third thing — the sword on the thigh — is about timing. One writer ties it to the builders who worked with their weapons strapped on:
We must not only be "armed" and "expert" but ready — every man with "his sword upon his thigh." It was so in Nehemiah's day. "Every man had his sword girded by his side, and so built" (Neh. 4:18). The moment of attack will give no time for girding on the sword. We must be ready to "preach the Word," in season and out of season.
Another writer turns this into a rule for everyone who serves God. The dark hours have their own work.
The day for labour and the night for watchfulness. Satan loves the darkness. It is the element in which he lives and moves… So the servants of the Lord should never stop watching. They must make provision for the night as well as for the day.
- Night. The scene sits before dawn. The bride counts on a day that has not yet come, and that is why the swords are out.
- King. The Solomon here is the King in unbroken glory, the man of peace, not the rejected sufferer.
- Guard. Sixty of Israel's best encircle the royal rest. No force can disturb the peace of the King and His people.
- Sword. The believer's weapon is Scripture. Holding it, being skilled with it, and wearing it ready are three different things.
- Watch. Darkness is the enemy's element. So service means work by day and guard by night — never unarmed, never unready.
King Solomon made himself a palanquin Of the wood of Lebanon.
The scene turns from the bride to one object: a royal carriage that King Solomon built for himself out of Lebanon's cedar. Commentators read the carriage and its materials as a picture of Christ, and they apply its journey in more than one way.
The emphasis falls on who made it. One writer carries that straight over to Christ:
The "bed" or "chariot" is the royal carriage. But notice especially that it is the King's own workmanship. "King Solomon made himself a carriage from the wood of Lebanon." Christ provides everything, and prepares everything for His people. He leaves nothing for us to do, except to enter into what He has finished.
Some translations call it a palanquin — a covered seat carried on poles. One writer reads each part of it as a truth about Christ:
In the details of the palanquin do we not see set forth great truths about the Person of Christ — the support of our souls and the foundation of our faith? The cedar wood speaks of His perfect humanity, fragrant and incorruptible. The pillars of silver tell of His redeeming power. The gold speaks of His divine righteousness, and the purple of His royalty. The pavement of love speaks of divine love, the foundation of all. Love comes last: as someone has said, "There is something beyond gold, there is nothing beyond love."
The choice of wood is not incidental. Cedar was prized for lasting where other timber fails:
Cedar of Lebanon is the symbol of stately, lofty, incorruptible glory. The cedars of Lebanon were hundreds of years old and cedar wood does not rot or decay like other wood.
Taken in order, the list builds an argument rather than a catalogue. The same study assembles them:
The pillars, or supports, are of silver. Silver speaks of purity, and of the Word of God, and is also the symbol of redemption... So if you put this all together you get an incorruptible glory (cedar wood) and royal splendour (purple) founded upon redemption (silver), based upon divine righteousness (gold), and the Lord's love for His people.
Another writer goes part by part, and guards what the gold means:
There was grace in the pillars of silver. The base of gold is divine righteousness — just as much for Israel as for us. It is never a question of man's righteousness at any time. The covering of purple suits a royal person. The middle is paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem. I need not say that the groundwork of it all is love.
That same reading sets the scene in the future and on the ground: "It is anticipative: He is not yet come; but that is what He is to be when He comes for her... It is not at all the scene of one taken away into heaven. It is one coming — coming to the earth."
If the carriage belongs to the King, then the journey described in verse 6 — coming up out of the wilderness — is not made on foot and alone:
The Church, too, has her wilderness journey — the time of her earthly pilgrimage — before she reaches the end in heavenly glory... The wilderness has its privileges as well as its privations. That is what the Song presents, for she makes the journey in the King's palanquin. What is more, the very privations become the occasion of calling out a sweet fragrance... The trials, the testings, and the privations of our wilderness journey, when taken from the hand of God, become the occasion of developing the graces of Christ.
- Made — the carriage is the King's own work. Christ prepares everything. His people need only enter what He has finished.
- Cedar — Lebanon's wood does not rot. It pictures an incorruptible glory, and Christ's perfect humanity.
- Silver and gold — the supports speak of redemption, the base of divine righteousness. That righteousness is God's, never man's, for Israel as for us.
- Purple — the covering marks royalty. Solomon is a faint picture of the Prince of Peace in His coming reign.
- Love — love paves the middle and grounds all the rest. There is something beyond gold, but nothing beyond love.
Its pillars he made of silver, Its support of gold, Its seat of purple; The midst thereof was paved [with] love By the daughters of Jerusalem.
The verse walks through Solomon's travelling carriage part by part: posts, base, seat and inside. Commentators read each piece as a picture of the King Himself, and one question runs underneath: who built it, and for whom?
Before the materials comes the maker. One writer presses that point, then draws a practical conclusion:
The "bed" or "chariot" is the royal carriage. But note especially, it is the King's own workmanship. "King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon." Christ provides everything, and prepares everything for His people. He leaves nothing for us to do, except to enter into what He has finished.
One writer reads the items as a description of the Person the carriage belongs to, and notes which one comes last:
In the details of the palanquin, do we not see great truths set out about the Person of Christ — the support of our souls and the foundations of our faith? The cedar wood speaks of His perfect humanity, fragrant and incorruptible. The pillars of silver tell of His redeeming power. The gold speaks of His divine righteousness, the purple of His royalty, and the pavement of love, of divine love, the foundation of all. Love comes last: as one has said, "There is something beyond gold, there is nothing beyond love."
A palanquin is a covered seat carried on poles. It is a royal litter, not a wheeled cart. Some translations call it a "palanquin" or "litter," others a "chariot," and the ESV a "carriage."
One commentator starts with the King's name, then gathers all five materials into one statement:
King Solomon, whose name means peacefulness, is a faint picture of Christ, the Prince of Peace in His coming reign of glory. … The pillars, or supports, are of silver. Silver speaks of purity, and of the Word of God (see Ps. 12:6). It is also the symbol of redemption. (See Ex. 30:11-16. Everyone who was numbered had to give a half shekel of silver as the ransom for his soul.) … So put this all together, and you get an incorruptible glory (cedar wood) and royal splendour (purple) founded on redemption (silver), based on divine righteousness (gold) and the Lord's love for His people.
Another writer reads the gold as righteousness, and is careful about whose it is. He also says when the scene happens:
"He made the pillars of it of silver." There was grace there. "The base of it of gold" — divine righteousness — just as much for Israel as for us. It is no question of man's righteousness at any time. "The covering of it of purple" — as suits a royal person. "The middle of it being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem." I need not say that the groundwork of it all is love. … It is anticipative: He is not yet come; but that is what He is to be when He comes for her. So you see it is not at all the scene of someone taken away into heaven: that is not the point at all. It is One coming — coming to the earth.
The last phrase names those the love is for. Commentators link these daughters to Israel as a whole:
"Love" is the spring of it all — God is love. "The daughters of Jerusalem" and "the daughters of Zion" may refer to the cities and tribes of Israel. For all of them, divine love has paved the way for their national dignity and millennial glory.
One reference work ties the same phrase to the bride herself:
The bride is not simply a person. She is symbolic of the earthly Jerusalem, and of the remnant whose names are registered as connected with God's foundation. She takes in all the faithful of Israel, looked on as "the daughters of Jerusalem," which represents the whole nation.
Translations differ over small words here. Where the ESV says "its back of gold," others read the base or support. Where the ESV says love "by" the daughters of Jerusalem, others read love "for" them. The commentators quoted above follow the second reading in each case.
- Made — the carriage is the King's own workmanship. His people have nothing to build, only to enter what He has finished.
- Cedar — wood that does not decay. It pictures His humanity: fragrant and incorruptible.
- Silver — the supports rest on redemption, the ransom price paid for each soul.
- Gold and purple — the base is divine righteousness, never man's. The seat is royalty, fitting a King who is coming to the earth.
- Love — the pavement comes last and holds up all the rest. It is love for the daughters of Jerusalem, that is, for all Israel. There is something beyond gold, but nothing beyond love.
Go forth, daughters of Zion, And behold king Solomon With the crown wherewith his mother crowned him In the day of his espousals, And in the day of the gladness of his heart.
The chapter ends with a call: come out and look at the king on his wedding day, wearing the crown his mother placed on his head. Who is this king, who is the mother, and when does this day of gladness arrive?
Commentators read Solomon here as a picture of someone greater, and the scene as His coming in power:
His coming described in verses 6-11 is His coming as King Messiah. In the last verse we have the key... His mother is Israel. Israel gave birth to Him according to the flesh, as it is also seen in the great vision of Revelation 12. In that day He comes up from the wilderness, like pillars of smoke, in the Shekinah cloud. He comes as the mighty victor, yet the true Solomon, the Prince of Peace, who speaks peace to the nations. In that day His mother Israel will crown Him Lord of all.
Getting the mother wrong has done real damage:
Israel, however, is the mother whether of the Bridegroom or of the bride: not the church, which is never set forth in that relation, but only as the Lamb's bride... It was the catholic system which confused the two and spoke of "our holy mother" the church. The Roman Catholic went further astray and made her not mother only but "mistress," in human vanity and pride.
A crown given by a mother points to His birth as a man:
Only the New Testament puts the King before us wearing the crown "with which," we may say, in a true and blessed sense, "His mother has crowned Him." For He is the Son of Man, born of woman, and this is a glory won from His humiliation. From a deeper humiliation He has won another crown, more glorious still. His people crown Him with delight — "Emmanuel," God with us, even "Jesus, who has saved His people from their sins."
One writer sets this crown beside another the King has already worn:
The daughters of Jerusalem had been taken up with the bride and the bridal procession, but now they are called to look at the King. We have known the King in this wilderness world with the crown of thorns, but we shall yet behold Him in the day of espousals with the crown of glory. The wilderness journey will soon be past.
No one has seen this scene yet. One writer also notes which way the King moves:
It is anticipative: He is not yet come; but that is what He is to be when He comes for her. So you see this is not at all the scene of someone taken away into heaven — that is not the point at all. It is one coming — coming to the earth.
Commentators differ on how far to press this. Kelly and Gaebelein keep the scene on earth with Israel. Hamilton Smith reads the same day as the moment Christ receives the church to Himself, without spot or wrinkle, and sees the fruit of His suffering and is satisfied.
The verse names the day twice: his wedding, and the gladness of his heart. One writer asks what fills the King's thoughts while everyone looks at him:
All are occupied with him. With what is he occupied? Is he thinking of his majesty? Do his thoughts centre round his crown? He is occupied, but it is with her who is his love, and with nothing else. Of her he thinks; with her beauty and sweetness he is taken up. She had failed, but his love could not fail.
The call to come out and look is not prophecy only. One writer turns it on the reader:
Israel, who once spat on Him and rejected Him, humbled and repentant, have at last welcomed Him... and acclaimed Him as their King. What joy that will be for the Lord's heart when He reaps this sweet fruit of the travail of His soul... But before we leave this chapter let me ask you: have you crowned Him as King in your heart? Have you rejoiced His heart by inviting Him to reign supreme in your life and have full sway in all your ways?
- Crowned. The Solomon here points past Solomon to the true King of peace, who will be crowned Lord of all.
- By His mother. Commentators name the mother as Israel, the nation that gave Him birth. She is not the church, which Scripture shows only as the bride.
- From humiliation. The crown His mother gives Him is a glory won as Son of Man, and it follows a crown of thorns already worn.
- Still ahead. This scene is still future. It shows a King coming down to earth, not saints going up. Commentators differ on whether the wedding day here includes the church.
- His gladness. The day is named for His joy, not ours. He is taken up with His bride, not with His crown. So the question now is simple: have you crowned Him in your own life?