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Lift up your eyes to the bare heights, and see!
    Where have you not been lain with?
By the waysides you have sat awaiting lovers
    like an Arab in the wilderness.
You have polluted the land
    with your vile harlotry.
Therefore the showers have been withheld,
    and the spring rain has not come;
yet you have a harlot’s brow,
    you refuse to be ashamed.
Have you not just now called to me,
    ‘My father, thou art the friend of my youth—

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