My head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night. Why is it that His head is filled with the dew? Because His heart is a shepherd-heart. There are those whom the FATHER has given to Him who are wandering on the dark mountains of sin: many, oh, how many, have never heard the SHEPHERD'S voice; many, too, who were once in the fold have wandered away--far away from its safe shelter. The heart that never can forget, the love that never can fail, _must_ seek the wandering sheep until the lost one has been found: "My FATHER worketh hitherto, and I work." And will she, who so recently was at His side, who joyfully braved the dens of lions and the mountains of leopards, will she leave Him to seek alone the wandering and the lost? Open to Me, My sister, My love, My dove, My undefiled: For My head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night. We do not know a more touching entreaty in the Word of GOD, and sad indeed is the reply of the bride:-- I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them? How sadly possible it is to take delight in conferences and conventions, to feast on all the good things that are brought before us, and yet to be unprepared to go out from them to self-denying efforts to rescue the perishing; to delight in the rest of faith while forgetful to fight the good fight of faith; to dwell upon the cleansing and the purity effected by faith, but to have little thought for the poor souls struggling in the mire of sin. If we can put off our coat when He would have us keep it on; if we can wash our feet while He is wandering alone upon the mountains, is there not sad want of fellowship with our LORD? Meeting with no response from the tardy bride, her Beloved put in His hand by the hole of the door, And "her" heart was moved for Him. But, alas, the door was not only latched, but barred; and His effort to secure an entrance was in vain. I rose up to open to my Beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the bolt. I opened to my Beloved; But my Beloved had withdrawn Himself, and was gone. My soul had failed me when He spake. When, all too late, the bride did arise, she seems to have been more concerned to anoint herself with the liquid myrrh than to speedily welcome her waiting LORD; more occupied with her own graces than with His desire. No words of welcome were uttered, though her heart failed within her; and the grieved One had withdrawn Himself before she was ready to receive Him. Again (as in the third chapter) she had to go forth alone to seek her LORD; and this time her experiences were much more painful than on the former occasion.