Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away.
Song of Songs 2:10
I hear the voice of my Beloved! He speaks tome! Fair weather is smiling upon the face of the earth, and He does not want me to be spiritually asleep while nature is all around me awaking from her winter’s rest. He bids me “Arise,” as well He might, for I have been lying long enough among the weeds of worldliness. He is risen, and I am risen in Him; so why should I still cleave to the dust? From lower loves, desires, pursuits, and aspirations, I want to rise to Him.
He calls me by the sweet title “my love” and counts me “beautiful”; this is a good argument for my rising. If He has exalted me and thinks me fair, how can I linger in the tents of wickedness and make my friends…
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