Song of Solomon 1:13

Letters to the Faithful - Song of Solomon 1:13

Berean Standard Bible

My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.

King James Bible

A bundle of myrrh is my wellbeloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.

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To the beloved of God, those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be saints, to all who long for His appearing and walk in the light of His love, grace and peace be multiplied to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. I write to you today with an earnest heart, drawn not by duty alone but by the sweet fragrance of divine affection as found in the mystery and beauty of the Song of Songs. Let us pause together and dwell upon one verse, Song of Solomon 1:13, which reads: “My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.”

These are not words of dry doctrine or legal decree. They are words of devotion, tenderness, and spiritual intimacy. They speak of love—yes, romantic in context, but also rich with a deeper, divine allegory. The ancient Church did not shy away from such language, for she saw in this song a reflection of the love between Christ and His bride, the Church. And so do we, for the whole of Scripture bears witness to the God who woos, who seeks, who lays down His life to win the heart of His people.

In this verse, the Shulamite woman, a picture of the believer or the Church, speaks of her beloved as a sachet of myrrh. Myrrh, in the ancient world, was costly and fragrant. It was used in anointing oil, in embalming the dead, and as a perfume. It was associated with suffering and sweetness—bitterness and beauty mingled together. When she likens her beloved to a sachet of myrrh resting upon her chest, she is describing something that is both deeply personal and enduring. She carries him close to her heart, continuously. This is not a passing thought of affection, but a constant companionship—a presence felt and cherished throughout the day and night.

So it is with us and Christ, dear brothers and sisters. He is to us as myrrh—precious and costly. He was crushed and offered like myrrh upon the altar of Calvary, and now He is the fragrance of salvation to those who are being saved. His suffering, like myrrh, had bitterness in it, yet through that bitterness came the sweetness of redemption. We who know Him and have been joined to Him by faith are called to carry Him not as an ornament, but as a continual presence close to the heart.

This intimacy is not the privilege of a few mystics, but the inheritance of every believer. Do not think that this nearness is reserved for the apostles of old or the spiritual giants of history. If you have believed in Christ and are washed in His blood, then you have become His bride. He does not visit occasionally; He abides. He is not merely near when we gather for worship; He is present in the quiet corners of our lives—in our labor and our rest, in our joy and our sorrow.

But let us examine ourselves: is Christ truly to us as a sachet of myrrh? Is He near, or is He a stranger within our own house? Have we welcomed Him into the chambers of our heart, or do we keep Him at the threshold? Do we meditate on His love and draw strength from His nearness, or do we busy ourselves with many things, while neglecting the one thing needful? The lover in this passage does not speak of her beloved as distant, but as resting between her breasts—symbolizing love, affection, vulnerability, and constancy.

The practical call to us is this: make Christ your daily delight. Do not relegate Him to the fringes of your life or reserve Him only for moments of crisis. Let Him be the fragrance that permeates your soul, shaping your desires, your decisions, and your demeanor. Let Him rest not as a burden, but as a joy, not as a formality, but as a treasure. And do not be content with a knowledge of Him that is merely external. Know Him in your heart. Commune with Him in the secret place. Meditate on His Word. Speak to Him throughout your day. Welcome Him into every part of your inner world. For He longs to be with you—not as a visitor, but as a lover and a Lord.

Let us also remember that myrrh is associated with both suffering and burial. When we carry Christ in our hearts, we carry both His sweetness and His sorrow. We are joined not only to His life, but to His death. The myrrh speaks of dying to self, of daily taking up our cross. But in that death is life. In that surrender is victory. And in that fellowship of His sufferings, we come to know Him more deeply and to be transformed into His likeness.

And if ever we find ourselves cold or distant, let us remember that it is not He who has moved, but we. He remains the faithful Bridegroom. His love does not fluctuate. He is always near to those who call upon Him in truth. His Spirit dwells within us. His word is our anchor. His presence is our peace. We must only turn our gaze back to Him, and we will find Him once again to be as a sachet of myrrh—comforting, fragrant, and close.

Beloved, the world offers many perfumes, many distractions, many counterfeit loves—but none can satisfy the soul like Jesus. Let His love be your fragrance. Let His cross be your boast. Let His presence be your rest. And let the intimacy you share with Him not be hidden, but displayed through a life of holy affection, obedience, and joy. For when He rests in your heart, His aroma will not stay confined—it will spread. Others will notice. They will be drawn, not to you, but to Him in you. And thus the bride becomes the witness.

May we, the Church, cherish our Beloved as the Shulamite cherished hers. May we say with sincerity and depth, “My Beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.” And may we live as those who know that the greatest treasure is not what we do for Him, but what we carry of Him.

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O Most Holy and Loving Father, Fountain of all tenderness and Lord of unsearchable affection, we come before You with hearts bowed in reverence and love, drawn by the gentle call of Your Spirit to the secret place where intimacy is born and sustained. You are the One who has set Your love upon us before the foundations of the earth. You are the Bridegroom who pursued us even in our rebellion, who clothed us with robes of righteousness, who placed a banner of love over us, and called us Your own. And now, as we turn our hearts toward the sacred words of the Song of Songs—those Spirit-breathed whispers of love between the Bride and the Beloved—we meditate on the holy mystery revealed in Song of Solomon 1:13: “My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.”

O God, let us not treat lightly the poetic power of these words, for they are not mere human sentiment, but divine invitation. They are not just ancient poetry, but living revelation. In them, You have hidden a vision of Christ and His Church, of the intimacy You long for with those who are called by Your name. Let this prayer be our response to that calling. We ask You, Lord, to open the eyes of our hearts to behold the Beloved in His beauty and to receive Him in the closeness that You have made possible by grace.

Lord Jesus, You are to us as a sachet of myrrh—precious, fragrant, and near. You are the costly One, who gave Yourself up for us. Myrrh speaks of suffering and of sweetness, of burial and of anointing. So too You, O Christ, were crushed for our iniquities, and the fragrance of Your sacrifice rose as a pleasing aroma before the Father. Let us never forget the cost of Your nearness. Let us never lose our wonder at the mystery of a God who dwells so closely within His people. May You, Beloved, not be to us a passing thought or a distant idea, but a constant presence—nearer than our breath, dearer than our treasures, resting continually upon the altar of our hearts.

We confess, Lord, how often we have wandered in heart. We have grown cold in affection, distracted in spirit, and distant in intimacy. We have allowed lesser loves to occupy the seat that belongs only to You. But You, in mercy, remain faithful. You wait. You woo. You knock again at the door of our hearts. So now, O Lord, we open. We welcome You anew. Rest between the innermost places of our being. Rest not as a weight but as a perfume. Rest not as a formality but as the fulfillment of divine love.

Let Your presence be to us like myrrh—sweet even in suffering. Let it anoint us with comfort in affliction and courage in trial. Let it linger through the hours of our day, reminding us that we are not alone. Let the fragrance of our communion with You be evident in our speech, our conduct, our countenance, and our love. May others breathe it in and be drawn to the fragrance of Christ in us. May our very lives become like alabaster jars, broken and poured out, releasing the aroma of worship wherever we go.

Teach us, O God, to abide. Teach us not to run past intimacy in the name of busyness, not to trade communion for productivity. You do not want our service apart from our hearts. You desire a bride whose love is undivided, whose devotion is constant, whose eyes are fixed upon You. You desire nearness—not just proximity, but affection, attention, and a soul fully surrendered. So we say, not only with our lips but from the depths of our being, that You are our Beloved, and we want You near.

Let us not treat Your presence as common. Let us not neglect this sacred gift of intimacy. Let the chamber of our hearts be fragrant with Your Word, saturated with Your Spirit, and adorned with humility and purity. And if there are areas in us that grieve You or push You to the margins—if there are distractions, compromises, or unrepented sins—then reveal them, Lord, and grant us grace to cast them down. For we desire nothing more than that You would remain close, undisturbed, and welcomed in every corner of our lives.

O Lord, let Your Church rise as the Bride who treasures the Bridegroom. Let us return to our first love, not only in doctrine but in passion. Let our worship be sincere, our prayer unceasing, our love unfeigned. Let us be known not merely by power or eloquence or activity, but by the fragrance of Your presence dwelling richly within us. Let Your Spirit stir within Your people a holy longing for more of You—not more blessings, not more knowledge, but more of You.

And when the night comes, when suffering presses in like darkness, when the soul is tempted to despair, let the myrrh of Your nearness steady us. For You, O Christ, are both the Man of Sorrows and the King of Glory. You understand our grief, yet You also triumph over it. May Your presence be to us then what it was to the Shulamite woman: a comfort, a remembrance, and a resting fragrance in the deepest place of the heart.

We end this prayer not with mere words but with a deeper desire: Be near, O Beloved. Be all in all. Be to us more than life itself. May our hearts become a sanctuary, our lives an altar, and our love a reflection of Your own. May we say with every breath and every day, “My Beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.” And may we never grow weary of that communion until the day we see You face to face.

In the name of Jesus Christ, our Beloved, our Bridegroom, our King,

Amen.