The Hebrew word, here translated "Salome," meaning Perfect or Peaceable, and derived from the same root as Solomon, is rendered in our common version, "the Shulamite." (Solomon's Song, vi. 13.) Strictly speaking, this name belongs (as indeed we believe the whole of the Song of Solomon does) to the Jewish remnant, and not to the Church.
"The voice of my Beloved."—Song of Sol. 2:88The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. (Song of Solomon 2:8).
'Twos spring-but, ah! my soul was sad,
The rising tear I could not quell;
While other hearts were light and glad,
I wept within my silent cell.
But lo! a sweet and quickening voice
Came softly on my listening ear,
And bade my drooping heart rejoice,
For oh! I knew my God was near.
“Arise! arise! Salome, hear!
My undefiled, my beauteous Dove,
Why sorrow thus? I come to cheer,
And gladden all thy soul with love.
“Thou know'st me, surely-I have died,
To bless thee, Love! to make thee mine;
Ah! see my brow, my bleeding side,
And doubt no more that I am thine.”
“Yes, Lord, "I cried," I know thee well—
Thy wounded heart, thy bleeding brow
A tender tale of mercy tell:
My Best-beloved, my Savior, thou.”
I spoke—and oh! his heavenly look,
And loving smile, divinely sweet!
My willing hand he gently took,
And drew me from my lone retreat.
“'Tis spring," he cried: "come forth and see,
The tender vines are budding now;
The fig-tree bears—and, hark! for thee
The turtle sings on yonder bough.”
Through sunny vales, and cooling shade,
In converse sweet, we pass'd along;
But oft our lingering steps delay'd,
To catch the turtle's heavenly song.
But oh his own melodious tongue
Was dearer far than all I heard;
On this my rapturous spirit hung,
And treasured every gracious word.
His tender theme, it all was love—
His own sweet love, so full and free,
That made him leave his home above,
And sorrow, suffer, die for me.
On this he dwelt-and oh! I found
My heart dissolve at all he said:
The joy I felt, on all around
New light, and life, and glory shed.
All nature seem'd divinely fair:
The earth below, the sky above
Were fill'd with joy; and all the air
Was fragrant with the breath of love.
Sweet, blessed day!-but, ah! it pass'd:
The dew, the shades of evening fell,
The night stole on, and found at last
Salome in her lonely cell.
My Lord had fled—he could not stay
For earth, you know, is not his home:
But yet, he said, " At break of day,
Salome I Love! again I '11 come.
“Oh, weep not then-bear up awhile;
The day," he cried," is coming fast,
When thou shalt dwell beneath the smile,
The sunshine of my love at last.”
Sweet promise! ah!—what else could make
These tears of rapture fill mine eye?
Without it, Lord! my heart would break,
My mourning spirit droop and die.
There is, there is a world of rest,
Dear Savior, for my weary soul,
Where all are holy, all are blest,
And love's unfailing waters roll.
And there beside those healing springs,
Far, far away from fear and strife,
Thy dove shall fold her silver wings,
And nestle in the tree of life.