Until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away,
Turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a gazelle or a young hart
Upon the mountains of Bether.
Careless of His desire, she thus lightly dismisses Him, with the thought: A little later I may enjoy His love; and the grieved Bridegroom departs!
Poor foolish bride! she will soon find that the things that once satisfied her can satisfy no longer; and that it is easier to turn a deaf ear to His tender call than to recall or find her absent Lord.
The day became cool, and the shadows did flee away; but He returned not. Then in the solemn night she discovered her mistake: It was dark, and she was alone. Retiring to rest she still hoped for His return—the lesson that worldliness is an absolute bar to full communion still unlearned.
By night on my bed I sought Him whom my soul loveth:
I sought Him, but I found Him not!
She waits and wearies: His absence becomes insupportable:—
I said, I will rise now, and go about the city,
In the streets and in the broad ways,
I will seek Him whom my soul loveth:
I sought Him, but I found Him not!
How different her position from what it might have been! Instead of seeking Him alone, desolate and in the dark, she might have gone forth with Him in the sunshine, leaning upon His arm. She might have exchanged the partial view of her Beloved through the lattice, when she could no longer say "Nothing between," for the joy of His embrace, and His public confession of her as His chosen bride!
The watchmen that go about the city found me:
To whom I said, Saw ye Him whom my soul loveth?
It was but a little that I passed from them,
When I found Him whom my soul loveth.
She had already obeyed His command, "Arise, and come away." Fearless of reproach, she was seeking Him in the dark; and when she began to confess her Lord, she soon found Him and was restored to His favour:—