Love God And Sex, Andre Cronje [great novels to read TXT] 📗

of every man is Christ, and the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God. A man who prays or prophesies with his head covered dishonors his head, and every wife who prays or prophesies with her head uncovered dishonors her head as if her head were shaven. For if a wife does not cover her head, then she should cut her hair short. But since it is disgraceful for a wife to cut off her hair or shave her head, let her cover her head. For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of man. For man was not made from woman, but woman from man. That is why a wife ought to have a symbol of authority on her head, because of the angels. In the Lord, a woman is not independent of man, nor the man of a woman, for as the woman was made from man, so man is now born of woman. And all things are from God. Judge for yourselves. Is it proper for a wife to pray to God with her head uncovered? Does not nature itself teaches that if a man wears long hair, it is a disgrace to him? But a woman’s long hair is her glory because her hair is given to her as a covering. If anyone is inclined to be contentious, we have no such practice, nor do the churches of God.

Husbands love your wives even as Christ also loved the church and gave himself for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word. That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having a spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing, but that it should be holy and without blemish. So, ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loves his wife loves himself. No man hates his own flesh but nourishes and cherishes it, even as the Lord the church. We are members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones. For this reason, will a man leave his parents, and will be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. This is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the church. So, love your wife as yourself, and the wife sees that she reverences her husband.

Then came to him men who say that there is no resurrection, and asked, master, Moses said, If a man dies having no children, his brother must marry his wife and raise up seed for his brother. Now there were with us seven brothers and the first when he had married a wife, deceased, and having no issue left his wife unto his brother. Likewise, the 2nd also, and the 3rd, unto the 7th, and at the end, the woman passed away. Now in the resurrection, whose wife will she be of the 7 for they all had her. So, Jesus answered them, you do err because you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God. For in the resurrection, they neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven. But as touching the resurrection of the dead, have you not read that which was spoken to you by God, saying, I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Jacob. God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. And when the multitude heard this, they were astonished at his doctrine.

Drink water out of your own reservoir and running water out of your own well. Lest your fountains are dispersed abroad, and your waters run in the streets. Let it be yours alone, and not for strangers. Let your fountain be blessed and rejoice with the wife of your youth and let her be as the love of your life, and let her breasts always satisfy you and always be delighted with her love. For why will you be enchanted with a strange woman, and embrace the bosom of a stranger?

8. Songs Of Solomon

8. Songs Of Solomon

Set me as a seal upon your heart, like the tattoo on your arm. For love is as strong as death, jealousy is as cruel as the grave, like the flame of coals of fire. Many waters cannot quench this love, neither can the floods drown it. Stir not up nor awake my love until he pleases. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for his love is better than wine. Like the smell of your perfume, so is your name poured forth as an ointment, and do the virgins love you. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me. He will lie all night against my breasts. Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where do you feed, where do you make your flock to rest at night? He is the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley. He brought me to his banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

My sweetheart whispers: Rise, my love, my fair one, and come away. I look at you, my love, and you are so beautiful. You are the fairest among women. O my dove let me see your face, let me hear your voice. Your sweet voice I know and the sight of you so beautiful. At night on my bed, I longed for him whom my soul loves. I will arise and search for him whom my soul love. You are so beautiful my lovely princess, you have dove’s eyes, and your hair is like a flock of goats. Your teeth are like a flock of sheered sheep, which came up from the washing, of whom everyone bears twins, and none is barren among them. Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and your speech is comely, thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks. My darling your two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies. Until the day breaks and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense. You are perfect my love. There is no spot in you. You have ravished my heart, my love, you have ravished my heart with your eyes. How beautiful is your love, my sweetheart! Your love is better than wine! And the smell of your perfume than all the spices! Your lips my spouse drops as the honeycomb. Sweetness is under your tongue, and the scent of your garments is like the smell of beauty. A garden enclosed is my sister. My spouse is a shut spring and a sealed fountain. Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits, and trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes with all the best spices. A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon. O awake north wind, and come to the south, and blow upon my garden that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden and eat his pleasant fruits.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my spouse. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice, and I have eaten my honeycomb, and I have drunk my wine and milk. Eat my friends and drink up, yes, drink abundantly, my beloved. I sleep, but my heart is awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knock at my door, whispering, open for me my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled. His head is filled with dew, and his hair with the drops of the night. But I have already put off my coat. Should I put it on again for him? My feet are washed, will I dirty them again? My beloved puts his hand by the hole in the door, and my stomach is filled with butterflies. Finally, I get up to open the door for my lover as my hands drip with myrrh. My fingers of sweet myrrh lean upon the lock of my door. I opened for him, but my prince has withdrawn himself and was gone. My soul failed when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him. I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen on patrol who found me struck and wounded me, and the keepers of the walls took my veil away from me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem if you find my beloved that you tell him, that I am love-sick.

My beloved is a handsome prince, the greatest among ten thousand. His looks are outrageously gorgeous. His eyes are like dove’s eyes. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers, and his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh. His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl. His belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires. His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold. His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is so sweet, yes, he is handsome. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. He feeds among the lilies.

My dove, my undefiled is the one. She is her mother’s favorite. The daughters saw and blessed her. Even the queens and the concubines all praised her. Who is she whose looks goes forth as the morning, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners? How beautiful are your feet with shoes, my princess! The joints of your thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. Your navel is like a round glass lacking liquor, and your belly like a heap of wheat decor with lilies. Your two breasts are like two young roes that are twins. Your neck is like a tower of ivory and your eyes like the sparkling stars brightening the skies of heaven. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon. Your head is like Carmel and the hair of your head like the purple that hangs in the king’s galleries. How fair and how pleasant you are for delights, my love! Your stature is like a palm tree and your breasts like clusters of grapes. I said I would go up to the palm tree, and I will take hold of the boughs thereof. Now, will your breasts also be to me as the clusters of the vine and the smell of your nose like sweet apples? And the roof of your mouth like the best wine, for my beloved, goes down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me. Come, my darling, let