W hen you come together to eat the Christians’ love suppers, these people are like hidden rocks that wreck a ship. They only think of themselves. They are like clouds without rain carried along by the wind and like trees without fruit in the fall of the year. They are pulled out by the roots and are dead now and never can live again.
These are spots in your banquets of charity, feeding themselves without any fear whatsoever: clouds without water, carried to and fro of the winds; trees withered as in fall, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots;
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