For the director of music. To the tune of "Lilies." Of the Sons of Korah. A maskil. A wedding song.
Oh, my heart's stirred with words that are noble;
written verse, to the king, I'll recite;
for my tongue is a quill to be used with the skill
(yes, my tongue is a pen to be bent to the will)
of a scribe who is ready and eager to write.
You're the handsomest man without measure;
on your lips has grace always found rest;
on account of that kiss God has given you this:
(yes, the God of creation has promised you this)
you will always forever and ever be blessed.
Strap your sword on your thigh, mighty warrior;
in your splendor and majesty, go.
In your majesty ride with the truth at your side;
(ride with justice and righteousness matching your stride)
may your right hand teach awesome things that you should know.
Pierce the foes of your king with sharp arrows;
let the nations fall under your feet.
May your throne, God, endure — be forever secure;
may your throne last forever to ever ensure
that the scepter of justice be used from that seat.
You love righteousness and you hate evil;
therefore God, your God, chose to deploy
his poured oil upon you that the rest never knew.
All your robes smell of myrrh, aloes, cassia, too;
from the ivoried palaces, harps bring you joy.
The kings' daughters are there with the others,
among your honored women they stand;
at your right hand is seen no one else but the queen
wearing jewelry from Ophir with sparkling sheen;
for the Ophir-mined gold is the best in the land.
Daughter, listen, pay careful attention:
forget home; let your past be ignored.
For your husband-to-be loves you most tenderly,
(loves your grace and your beauty and delicacy)
when you honor him, bow, because he is your Lord.
And the princess of Tyre will bring presents,
while the wealthiest seek out your face.
The king's daughter, a-bloom sits alone in her room
(to await the arrival of her loving groom)
and her gown is embroidered with gold in the lace.
She'll be led to the King in her raiment,
with her virgin companions as well.
With rejoicing and song they will hurry along,
(oh, what glorious joyous noise made by this throng)
as they enter into the King's palace to dwell.
Then your sons will be kings like their fathers;
you'll make princes of sons that you raised.
And I'll make so your name is recalled with your fame,
so that all generations and nations proclaim;
therefore you will forever and ever be praised.
Leave a Reply.
For more poetry like this, head to TheHawksQuill.com