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. 8. G. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. ‘If he had, he’d have found the sword, see. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. Folks don’t like ’em.
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