Song of Solomon 5:13

Behold, the flowery month has come! March winds and April showers have done their work, and the earth is all adorned with beauty. Come my soul, put on your holiday attire and go forth to gather garlands of heavenly thoughts. You know where to go, for to you "the beds of spices" are well known, and you have so often smelled the perfume of "the sweet flowers," that you will go at once to your well-beloved and find all loveliness, all joy in him.

That cheek, once so rudely struck with a rod, often moistened with tears of sympathy and then defiled with spittle—that cheek, as it smiles with mercy, is like a fragrant aroma to my heart. You did not hide your face from shame and spitting, O Lord Jesus, and therefore I will find my dearest delight in praising you.

Those cheeks were furrowed by the plow of grief, and made crimson with red lines of blood from your thorn-crowned temples; such marks of unbounded love cannot help but charm my soul far more than "pillars of perfume." If I may not see the whole of his face, I would gaze upon his cheeks, for the least glimpse of him is extremely refreshing to my spiritual sense and yields a variety of delights.

In Jesus I find not only fragrance, but a bed of spices; not one flower, but all manner of sweet flowers. He is to me my rose and my lily, my heartsease and my cluster of camphire. When he is with me it is May all the year round, and my soul goes forth to wash her happy face in the morning-dew of his grace, and to comfort herself with the singing of the birds of his promises. Precious Lord Jesus, let me truly know the blessedness which dwells in abiding, unbroken fellowship with you. I am a poor worthless one, whose cheek you have condescended to kiss! O let me kiss you in return with the kisses of my lips.