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Reference
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Text
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Song of Songs 8:1
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Oh that thou wert as my brother, That sucked the breasts of my mother! [When] I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; Yea, and none would despise me.
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Song of Songs 8:2
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I would lead thee, [and] bring thee into my mother's house, Who would instruct me; I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine, Of the juice of my pomegranate.
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Song of Songs 8:3
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His left hand [should be] under my head, And his right hand should embrace me.
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Song of Songs 8:4
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I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, That ye stir not up, nor awake [my] love, Until he please.
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Song of Songs 8:5
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Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, Leaning upon her beloved? Under the apple-tree I awakened thee: There thy mother was in travail with thee, There was she in travail that brought thee forth.
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Song of Songs 8:6
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Set me as a seal upon thy heart, As a seal upon thine arm: For love is strong as death; Jealousy is cruel as Sheol; The flashes thereof are flashes of fire, A very flame of Jehovah.
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Song of Songs 8:7
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Many waters cannot quench love, Neither can floods drown it: If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, He would utterly be contemned.
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Song of Songs 8:8
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We have a little sister, And she hath no breasts: What shall we do for our sister In the day when she shall be spoken for?
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Song of Songs 8:9
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If she be a wall, We will build upon her a turret of silver: And if she be a door, We will inclose her with boards of cedar.
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Song of Songs 8:10
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I am a wall, and my breasts like the towers [thereof] Then was I in his eyes as one that found peace.
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Song of Songs 8:11
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Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; He let out the vineyard unto keepers; Every one for the fruit thereof was to bring a thousand [pieces] of silver.
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Song of Songs 8:12
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My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: Thou, O Solomon, shalt have the thousand, And those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred.
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Song of Songs 8:13
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Thou that dwellest in the gardens, The companions hearken for thy voice: Cause me to hear it.
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Song of Songs 8:14
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Make haste, my beloved, And be thou like to a roe or to a young hart Upon the mountains of spices.
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