Chapter I
Text | Commentary |
1
The Lord is upon my head like a wreath, And I shall not leave him. 2 The wreath of truth has been plaited for me, And it has let thy branches bud within me; 3 For it is not like a withered wreath that does not bud: 4 But thou art alive upon my head, And thou hast budded upon me. 5 Thy fruits are full and perfect: They are full of thy salvation.
Notes:
1 Extant only in Coptic.