Do ye not comprehend that we are worms born to bring forth the angelic butterfly that flieth unto judgment without screen?
Perceive ye not that we are worms, designed To form the angelic butterfly, that goes To judgment, leaving all defence behind? Why doth your mind take such exalted pose, Since ye, disabled, are as insects, mean As worm which never transformation knows?
In judgement be ye not too confident, Even as a man who will appraise his corn When standing in a field, ere it is ripe.
O mortal men, be wary of how ye judge.
The infernal storm, eternal in its rage, sweeps and drives the spirits with its blast; it whirls them, lashing them with punishment. When they are swept back past their place of judgment then come the shrieks, laments, and anguished cries; there they blaspheme God's almighty power.
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