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508 psl. - Great wits are sure to madness near allied; And thin partitions do their bounds divide: Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest, Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
28 psl. - Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak comfortably unto her. And I will give her her vineyards from thence, and the valley of Achor for a door of hope : and she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth, and as in the day when she came up out of the land of Egypt.
28 psl. - Therefore, behold, I will hedge up thy way with thorns, and make a wall, that she shall not find her paths. And she shall follow after her lovers, but she shall not overtake them; and she shall seek them, but shall not find them: then shall she say, I will go and return to my first husband ; for then was it better with me than now.
30 psl. - I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely : for mine anger is turned away from him. I will be as the dew unto Israel : he shall grow as the lily, and cast forth his roots as Lebanon.
165 psl. - For ye are yet carnal: for whereas there is among you, envying, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men ? 4 For while one saith, I am of Paul ; and another, I am of Apollos; are ye not carnal?
345 psl. - Wherewith shall I come before the LORD, and bow myself before the high God ? shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil? shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul...
39 psl. - Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To have dominion over sea and land; To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; To feel the passion of Eternity? Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns And marked their ways upon the ancient deep? Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf There is no shape more terrible than this...
38 psl. - Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?