He tells me that you will not even see him. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. " "Then you will stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm sure he won't part with you. " The doctor sent her a sharp, quizzical glance.
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