London Review, 6. köide

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1767
 

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Page 266 - But now ye seek to kill me, a man that hath told you the truth, which I have heard of God: this did not Abraham.
Page 266 - Jesus said unto them, If God were your Father, ye would love me : for I proceeded forth, and came from God ; neither came I of myself, but he sent me.
Page 265 - Jesus answered and said unto them, Though I bear record of myself, yet my record is true : for I know whence I came, and whither I go ; but ye cannot tell whence I come, and whither I go.
Page 265 - I said therefore unto you, that ye shall die in your sins : for if ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins.
Page 265 - Then said Jesus unto them, When ye have lifted up the Son of man, then shall ye know that I am he, and that I do nothing of myself; but as my Father hath taught me, I speak these things.
Page 264 - A certain man planted a vineyard, and set an hedge about it, and digged a place for the winefat, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen, and went into a far country.
Page 267 - Yet ye have not known him; but I know him: and if I should say, I know him not, I shall be a liar like unto you: but I know him, and keep his saying. Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day: and he saw it, and was glad.
Page 265 - Then said they unto him, Where is thy Father? Jesus answered, Ye neither know me, nor my Father : if ye had known me, ye should have known my Father also. 20 These words spake Jesus in the treasury, as he taught in the temple : and no man laid hands on him, for his hour was not yet come. 21 Then said Jesus again unto them, I go my way, and ye shall seek me, and shall die in your sins : whither I go, ye cannot come.
Page 277 - He made him ride on the high places of the earth, That he might eat the increase of the fields; And he made him to suck honey out of the rock, And oil out of the flinty rock...
Page 23 - The sparkling dewdrops o'er the lilies play, Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day. If love and mirth your wanton thoughts engage, Attend, ye nymphs! (a poet's words are sage).

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