You are altogether beautiful, my darling; in you there is no flaw.You are all beautiful, my love. There is no spot in you.Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee.
3 sermons cite this verse
… He says in verse 7, I love this verse, you are all fair, my love, and there is no spot in you. Ooh, warmer, warmer. This is temple language. When you brought a sacrifice, the priest would judge it as being spotted or spotless. By saying, because now essentially they're undressed with the lights on, and he's just like, I just, you're beautiful. Now remember, when they first met, he praised her and she goes, no, my skin, don't look at me, don't look at me. Don't look at me because I'm not as pretty as the other girl. There's insecurity. And his love for her has caused her to bloom as he was obsessed with her, but looking in her eyes and speaking life over her, not wanting to take, not in a rush with her, not trying to get what he could get from her. It caused her to melt those insecurities away. She started saying stuff like, I'm the Rose of Sharon. I'm a lily of the valleys. …
Why was our Master's face full of spit? Sweet thought! Our faces were full of spots, and if the Master would save us, His face must be full of spots, too! He had none of His own—therefore those spots shall be given Him from the lips of scoffers. You know it became Him who saved us, that in everything He should be made like unto us. We were wounded. What then? "He was wounded for our transgressions." We were sick, and He, Himself, "bore our sicknesses, and carried our sorrows." Since we were worms, He must say, "I am a worm, and no man." And we being sinful, He must bear our sin and be numbered with the transgressors—and led away to die. In all things He must become a true Substitute for those whom He came into the world to redeem! And now, my Soul, come here and look at this wondrous spectacle again. The face of your Lord Jesus Christ is filled with spit! Was ever a sight so loathsome and so disgusting as this? But mark, this is your case. Down your cheeks something worse than spit ran—from your eyes there flowed something worse than came from the lips of soldiers—and from your mouth there has gushed forth a stream which is worse than that which came upon the Savior's face. Come, look at this mirror tonight, my dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ, for the face of Christ is the mirror of your souls! What He endured mirrors forth what we were by nature. Oh, what spots there were in us! What hellish spots that streams of water could not wash away! What evils of every kind—pride, and anger, and lust, and defiance of God! Spots, did I say? Why, surely the sun has looked upon our faces and we have become black all over as the tents of Kedar. 'Tis no more with us, now, a matter of spots—by nature we are as the Ethiopian—black, thoroughly black! But, glory be unto His name, His spots have taken away our spots! This spit has made us clean! We are black no longer! By faith we may feel, tonight, that that spit on the Savior's face has washed away the sin from ours. His shame has taken away our sin! That spitting has taken away our guilt. And now what says your Lord of us? You know what sort of face He has. Listen to Him while He describes ours. You would scarcely think that He could mean it, but certainly He does, for He has seen us often and, therefore, He should know. He says of us, O prince's daughter—"Your head (Song 7:5, 6) upon you is like Carmel, and the hair of your head like purple: the king is held in the galleries." And again He says, "You are all fair, My love; there is no spot in you." When I first had that text laid home to my soul, well do I remember how it ravished my heart! I could not understand that my Lord and Master should actually look me in the face and say, "Lo, you are fair; there is no spot in you." Oh, it is a grand and noble Truth of God! Faith grasps it, love dotes over it, our hearts treasure it! There is no spot left in a Believer— …
II. AS IT APPEALS TO OURSELVES. What do you think it ought to say to us? Or what should we say in response to it? It strikes me that, as it shows Christ's tenderness, so, on our part, it ought to prompt a corresponding tenderness. Horrible is the state of that man's mind who can presume upon Christ's tenderness and yet love sin! I have heard some preach the Doctrine that God sees no sin in Jacob, neither iniquity in Israel, in such a way as to make you feel that they could not see any sin in the people of Jehovah's choice. But I would like to feel that His great forbearance excited my scrupulousness. Does the Lord say that He can see no sin? Then I will see it all the more. Does He say of His exquisite tenderness, "You are all fair, My Love, there is no spot in you"—shall I, therefore, treat sin as though it were nothing, trifle with it and call it a nonentity? Oh, no! I will weep because of the tenderness of Him who knows all about me! And though He is too gracious to throw my sin in my teeth, yet I will take care to bemoan it myself. God forgives me—and for that reason I cannot forgive myself. God casts my sin behind His back—therefore, I have it continually before my face. Such love as His makes me appear the more black, the more detestable in my own eyes. If I had a friend who knew that I had some besetting sin, some grievous infirmity, and if that dear friend, out of the tenderness of his heart for me, never mentioned it to me, though it had grieved him much, should I, therefore, treat it with levity? Suppose I had injured him in business, do you think I should forget it for that reason? Or had I been the instrument of his losing some dear relative, and yet he never said a word to me about it, never upbraided me, never looked as if he felt that I had wronged him—never even hinted in a side way that I was the cause of his pain—well, I hope I speak honestly when I say that his kind reticence would wound and cut me to the heart more than if he spoke bitterly to me! If you, as a servant, have committed a fault and your master never says a word by way of blame, I am sure you will feel the more sorry rather than the less concerned for the wrong you have done. If a man comes to me in a rage and calls me evil names, I consider, then, that whatever my fault may be, he has taken his revenge and I am not bound to humble myself—but when he says, "Ah well, I will say nothing about it," or when he passes it over in silence and is as quiet and tender to me as if I had never done him an injury, why, then I must chastise myself, even if he will not chastise me! I must blame myself, since he will not blame me. Dear Christian Friends, let us cultivate a holy sensibility. There is what is called the sensitive plant which turns up its leaves when it is touched. Let us be like that plant. If Christ has been tender to us, let us also be tender! …