| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Augsburg Confession by Philip Melanchthon: urged at all times, not only on a few and set days. So Christ
commands, Luke 21, 34: Take heed lest your hearts be
overcharged with surfeiting; also Matt. 17, 21: This kind
goeth not out but by prayer and fasting. Paul also says, 1
Cor. 9, 27: I keep under my body and bring it into subjection.
Here he clearly shows that he was keeping under his body, not
to merit forgiveness of sins by that discipline, but to have
his body in subjection and fitted for spiritual things, and
for the discharge of duty according to his calling. Therefore,
we do not condemn fasting in itself, but the traditions which
prescribe certain days and certain meats, with peril of
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Alexandria and her Schools by Charles Kingsley: things, and it is as well to have as many friends at court as possible--
Noetic Gods, Noeric Gods, rulers, angels, daemons, heroes--to enable him
to do what? To understand Plato's most mystical and far-seeing
speculations. The Eternal Nous, the Intellectual Teacher has vanished
further and further off; further off still some dim vision of a supreme
Goodness. Infinite spaces above that looms through the mist of the
abyss a Primaeval One. But even that has a predicate, for it is one; it
is not pure essence. Must there not be something beyond that again,
which is not even one, but is nameless, inconceivable, absolute? What
an abyss! How shall the human mind find anything whereon to rest, in
the vast nowhere between it and the object of its search? The search
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Catriona by Robert Louis Stevenson: I thought to myself at sight of it, "There goes Davie."
My way lay over Mouter's Hill, and through an end of a clachan on the
braeside among fields. There was a whirr of looms in it went from
house to house; bees bummed in the gardens; the neighbours that I saw
at the doorsteps talked in a strange tongue; and I found out later that
this was Picardy, a village where the French weavers wrought for the
Linen Company. Here I got a fresh direction for Pilrig, my
destination; and a little beyond, on the wayside, came by a gibbet and
two men hanged in chains. They were dipped in tar, as the manner is;
the wind span them, the chains clattered, and the birds hung about the
uncanny jumping-jacks and cried. The sight coming on me suddenly, like
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