Song of Solomon 6:4

Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?

Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is mount Zion, on the sides of the north, the city of the great King.

And Jeroboam’s wife arose, and departed, and came to Tirzah: and when she came to the threshold of the door, the child died;

And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.

All that pass by clap their hands at thee; they hiss and wag their head at the daughter of Jerusalem, saying, Is this the city that men call The perfection of beauty, The joy of the whole earth?

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God hath shined.

Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.

And it came to pass, when Baasha heard thereof, that he left off building of Ramah, and dwelt in Tirzah.

(For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;)

That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes.

In the third year of Asa king of Judah began Baasha the son of Ahijah to reign over all Israel in Tirzah, twenty and four years.

I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.

And in that day will I make Jerusalem a burdensome stone for all people: all that burden themselves with it shall be cut in pieces, though all the people of the earth be gathered together against it.

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.