The Great Chain on Urantia (Chapter 4, page 1 of 7)

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Chapter 4

XXXV "No more be grieved at that which thou hadst done Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.

All men make faults, and even I in this, Authorizing thy trespass with compare, Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense, Thy adverse party is thy advocate, And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: Such civil war is in my love and hate, That I an accessory needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me."

W. Shakespeare 18 December 1940 Brother Cyprios, at his desk.

Notes to a diary for a foundling …

Today was born in the hamlet of Sombe a male; A male of the order primate and the genus homo, But hairy and furry to an unprecedented degree.

Wrapped in swaddling clothes as a god can be, But eating and crying and wetting like any baby.

21 December 1940 Brother Cyprios walks alone in the square …

A package, a deliverance, a visitation has come, A little bundle of joy as they say. But wait, Who brought him here? Something is very wrong…

The parents are nowhere in evidence. No one affirms With name and honored line the patronage, the lineage, The heir. The heir to what, we wonder. What story Lies behind this foundling, what origin?

What secret shame, this covert way to orphan him; To leave him at our gate in anonymity.

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