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For he maketh small the drops of water: they pour down rain according to the vapour thereof:

Hath the rain a father? or who hath begotten the drops of dew?

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.