As the brook babbles sweetly o'er the hedges
there is but one voice I hear.
It hums and sings, calling out solely
for His Treasure and Bride
He has scattered love notes all around
Placing them on stems and sticks
Leaving them in the sky's warmth
And in its cool kiss.
He knows His Treasure and Bride.
Nothing escapes His watchful sight:
No thought, no feeling, no prayer.
He calls his most beloved by these two names.
One incomplete without the other.
He declares its value before all other kings.
There are no stones or metals more precious,
Rubies are not as rich, sapphires are not as scarce
Gold holds no comparison in His eyes.
As the King of kings, He takes the choicest of all that is valued.
So He calls the one He loves His Treasure.
He boasts in His Treasure.
Pure unlike anything else.
The voice that gives the Treasure its worth also declares its authority.
Yes, a worthy treasure, but more so a lovely Bride.
His beloved owns both titles.
If left as just a treasure, then it would be like all others.
He says his Treasure is more than an object.
Not a trophy gained from His most difficult battle.
One does not die for an object or possession.
He makes His treasure His Bride.
Their lives into one, a full union.
Worth beyond all other treasures and love surpassing anything else.
His Bride and Treasure.
Both are needed to see the one He loves through His eyes.
If only Bride, there may be question
As to His delight or devotion.
Yes, He could lay down His life,
But oh where is the joy?
Bride and Treasure.
Intimacy and delight.
Sacrifice and zeal.
His words etched into time.
Never to be moved.
Never to be doubted.
His love will last all of His days.
As His whispers waft in the breeze
His Love hears and knows that He beckons.
Purely to be, to exist, to commune
And in every moment, He reminds
Of how He found His Treasure and sold all He had
to make her His Bride.