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. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word. "He has just broken out of Newgate.
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