| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians by Martin Luther: knoweth either love or hatred by all that is before them." (Eccles. 9:1.) They
take this hatred to mean the wrath of God to come. Others take it to mean
God's present anger. None of them seem to understand this passage from
Solomon. On every page the Scriptures urge us to believe that God is
merciful, loving, and patient; that He is faithful and true, and that He keeps
His promises. All the promises of God were fulfilled in the gift of His only-
begotten Son, that "whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life." The Gospel is reassurance for sinners. Yet this one saying
from Solomon, misinterpreted at that, is made to count for more than all the
many promises of all the Scriptures.
If our opponents are so uncertain about their status with God, and even go so
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Burning Daylight by Jack London: "Two!" some one cried. "Two was the bet."
"They didn't lift that last sack," Kearns protested.
"They only lifted seven hundred and fifty."
But Daylight grandly brushed aside the confusion.
"What's the good of you-all botherin' around that way? What's
one more sack? If I can't lift three more, I sure can't lift
two. Put 'em in."
He stood upon the chairs, squatted, and bent his shoulders down
till his hands closed on the rope. He shifted his feet slightly,
tautened his muscles with a tentative pull, then relaxed again,
questing for a perfect adjustment of all the levers of his body.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from An Inland Voyage by Robert Louis Stevenson: away. But these luminous intervals were only partially luminous.
A little more of us was called into action, but never the whole.
The central bureau of nerves, what in some moods we call Ourselves,
enjoyed its holiday without disturbance, like a Government Office.
The great wheels of intelligence turned idly in the head, like fly-
wheels, grinding no grist. I have gone on for half an hour at a
time, counting my strokes and forgetting the hundreds. I flatter
myself the beasts that perish could not underbid that, as a low
form of consciousness. And what a pleasure it was! What a hearty,
tolerant temper did it bring about! There is nothing captious
about a man who has attained to this, the one possible apotheosis
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