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 in your love-feasts craggy rocks; feasting together with you, without fear shepherding themselves; clouds without water, by winds carried about; trees autumnal, without fruit, twice dead, rooted up;
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