3:5. "I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, and by the deer of the field, that you stir not up, nor wake my Love, until He please."

The Church in this sweet fellowship dreads all interruption which may cause the Lord to disappear. How blessed will that day be, when sin shall no more enter, and Jesus no more retire! Swiftly may the hours fly, until the morning dawns, which shall usher in such blessedness!

3:6. "Who is this that comes out of the wilderness like a pillar of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all the spices of the merchant?"

The teaching of the Spirit is boundless in variety. Nature in its endless beauties--art in its elaborate accomplishments--marvels of science--events of long-flowing history--annals of the past, are employed in the sacred page to give pictures of Jesus. A similitude of novel features is here introduced. The Church from her watch-tower looks abroad. She casts her gaze along the widespread wilderness. She beholds the advance of pillars of smoke redolent with every precious perfume. May He, who in unfailing love supplies this image, bless it to the instruction and comfort of our hearts!

The Church in wonder exclaims, "Who is this?" This question is not infrequent in the Word. We hear, "Who is this that comes from Edom--with dyed garments from Bozrah? I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save." Crowds at Jerusalem are moved by the approach of One to whom unwonted homage is given. The question breaks forth, "Who is this?" The reply is ready, "This is Jesus, the Prophet of Nazareth of Galilee."

It is wise in every object on which the eye is fixed, or to which the mind is turned, to seek for some manifestations of the blessed Jesus. He who thus tries to add to his stores of saving knowledge, will ofttimes be delighted with new views of Him whose excellence is inexhaustible. We may find much; but more remains unfound. The question, "Who is this?" opens the door for wondrous replies.

The Church here sees an object new to her admiration. But can this be Christ coming up out of a wilderness? Is He not God's co-eternal and co-equal Son? Are not the heaven of heavens His own home? Is He not God over all, blessed for evermore? Can such condition appertain to Him? Marvel of marvels--love surpassing all our powers of thought! He empties Himself of His glory. He descends to this degraded earth. He enters on a wilderness state. He assumes the rags of poor humanity, that in man's nature He may endure our curse--sustain our penalties--pay all our debt--shed blood to wash out our every sin--and to work out a righteousness with which to cover the iniquities and deformities of His people. Though He was so great, He becomes utter lowness--though He was so mighty, He puts on extreme feebleness--though He was so rich, yet He is clothed in abject poverty--though He was heaven's Lord, He appears as earth's lowly child, and treads this wilderness, having no place in which to lay His head. We see, then, the aptness of the similitude, which shows Him in a wilderness state.

But an especial form is here exhibited. He advances as apillar of smoke. Our thoughts at once are turned to the Tabernacle in the wilderness. By day a pillar of smoke rested on it. Clouds of smoke ascended from the Altar of burnt-offering--smoke, also, rose from the Golden Altar of Incense. Thus we see Christ corresponding to the grand teaching of the Tabernacle.

These pillars of smoke are fragrant, also, with enchanting perfume. Thus to gaze on Christ refreshes--revives--cheers--exhilarates--gladdens. Myrrh and frankincense, and the costly spices of merchants, are employed to show the sweet delights which faith inhales from Him.