If for one moment the maiden had thought otherwise, she is now conscious that she is utterly ignorant in herself and that she knows nothing yet, as she should. This is the artistry of the “skillful Workman“— to illuminate a soul with his light, and yet keep it conscious of its own ignorance — to be Wisdom to the redeemed one, yet to keep the earthen vessel from appropriating that wisdom as its own, so that it can always cry, “Instruct me.” The Shulamite cries, “Teach me — then I will cause you to drink, to be refreshed through me, whom you have always compared to a pomegranate.” He is still the center of her whole being. She has lost step on occasion, but not him as her life. Her aim is still that He may be satisfied.
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