Anthropogenesis

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Aryan theosophical Press, 1917 - Theosophy
 

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Page 484 - Here we may reign secure: and in my choice. To reign is worth ambition, though in hell ; Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
Page 641 - Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars: She hath killed her beasts; she hath mingled her wine; she hath also furnished her table. She...
Page 493 - Thou art the anointed cherub that covereth; and I have set thee so: thou wast upon the holy mountain of God ; thou hast walked up and down in the midst of the stones of fire.
Page 618 - And there are seven kings: five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come; and when he cometh, he must continue a short space.
Page 485 - And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth : and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born.
Page 537 - When the Most High divided to the nations their inheritance, when he separated the sons of Adam, he set the bounds of the people according to the number of the children of Israel.
Page 539 - And Moses said unto God, Behold when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you; and they shall say to me, What is his name? what shall I say unto them? And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you.
Page 771 - And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron : and her child was caught up unto God, and to his throne.
Page 748 - I saw the woman, drunk with the blood of the saints and the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.
Page 655 - Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.

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