Woman
Come, my love,
let’s go to the field;
let’s spend the night among the henna blossoms.
Let’s go early to the vineyards;
let’s see if the vine has budded,
if the blossom has opened,
if the pomegranates are in bloom.
There I will give you my caresses.
The mandrakes give off a fragrance,
and at our doors is every delicacy,
both new and old.
I have treasured them up for you, my love.
If only I could treat you like my brother,
one who nursed at my mother’s breasts,
I would find you in public and kiss you,
and no one would scorn me.
I would lead you, I would take you,
to the house of my mother who taught me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink
from the juice of my pomegranate.
May his left hand be under my head,
and his right arm embrace me.
Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you,
do not stir up or awaken love
until the appropriate time.
Young Women
Who is this coming up from the wilderness,
leaning on the one she loves?
Woman
I awakened you under the apricot tree.
There your mother conceived you;
there she conceived and gave you birth.
Set me as a seal on your heart,
as a seal on your arm.
For love is as strong as death;
jealousy is as unrelenting as Sheol.
Love’s flames are fiery flames—
an almighty flame!
A huge torrent cannot extinguish love;
rivers cannot sweep it away.
If a man were to give all his wealth for love,
it would be utterly scorned.
Brothers
Our sister is young;
she has no breasts.
What will we do for our sister
on the day she is spoken for?
If she is a wall,
we will build a silver barricade on her.
If she is a door,
we will enclose her with cedar planks.
Woman
I am a wall
and my breasts like towers.
So to him I have become
like one who finds peace.
Solomon owned a vineyard in Baal-hamon.
He leased the vineyard to tenants.
Each was to bring for his fruit
one thousand pieces of silver.
I have my own vineyard.
The one thousand are for you, Solomon,
but two hundred for those who take care of its fruits.
Man
You who dwell in the gardens,
companions are listening for your voice;
let me hear you!
Woman
Run away with me, my love,
and be like a gazelle
or a young stag
on the mountains of spices.
Click here to listen to the Scripture in ESV.
As you read through this final love song from this book, think about how it can be seen as a picture of God’s love for us, in addition to a celebration of the beauty of human romantic love between a husband and a wife.
To prepare your heart and mind even further for today's sermon, the Story of Scripture team at Dallas Theological Seminary wrote this devotional you might enjoy. Make a plan to join us at one of our five campuses to engage this passage in prayer and study with others in our church family.
Imaged for Intimacy
by Kraig McNutt - based on Song of Songs 7:1-8:8
"For love is as strong as death…" —Song of Songs 8:6
It is easy and unfortunately almost second nature to feel a slow pull away from God's presence. This is our sin nature calling us, deceiving us to leave the thing we really long for: a love that knows us completely and never lets go. We all carry an ache in the soul to be completely known, accepted, and unashamed.
To be "known" like that is rare. Biblically, to be "known" by someone—the way Adam "knew" Eve—is oneness, relational and physical. In a word: intimacy. In his book Inside Out, Larry Crabb put it well: "authentic intimacy is elusive and difficult but compelling and possible."
The Song of Songs presses us to ask: what does intimacy look like relationally, physically, and spiritually? The Song’s point is that intimacy is what we were made for, as we were made in the image of God. It’s an intimacy not just between a man and a woman, but ultimately, with God. We were imaged for intimacy—to know and be known by the God who made us.
We see it as far back as Eden, where the man and the woman stood "naked and unashamed" (Genesis 2:25). They were fully known, fully loved. Nothing was hidden. Then sin entered. The first thing it did was send the man and the woman into hiding, fig leaves in hand, covering their shame. We, too, feel the pull of sin that takes us away from our Creator’s presence, the desire to go our own way, to run or try to hide from God. Then, as with Adam and Eve, the ache awakens within us. It’s supposed to. It awakens as soon as we hear God ask, "Where are you?"
Have you considered why God asked that question? Not because he didn't know where they were. It’s because they didn't. God asks, "Where are you?" And finding ourselves in the same mess, we ask ourselves the same thing: how in the world did I get here? When we drift from God, isolated from his presence, he graciously whispers, "Where are you? I have not moved. Return to me and be with me."
If we are made for intimacy with God, where is that ache finally satisfied? At the wedding supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19). The ache for intimacy that began in a garden is restored at a wedding. How beautiful. The Song of Songs says love is "as strong as death" (8:6). But at that wedding, we find it is stronger still. Death feels final. Yet true intimacy between God and his people outlasts even the grave.
Craft your own prayer based on the Scripture passage, asking God to be present in all the gatherings of churches across the globe, as the gospel story is shared today.
Invite someone else (friend, family member, church member, etc.) to engage in this passage in prayer with you, and share with them one thing that was meaningful to you from it.
If you are also following the BibleProject’s One Story That Leads to Jesus reading plan, complete today’s reading.