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(19) Dust thou art . . . --It appears from this that death was man's normal condition.A spiritual being is eternal by its own constitution, but the argument by which Bishop Butler proves the soul to be immortal equally proves the mortality of the body.
KJV, The King James Study Bible, Red Letter, Full-Color Edition: KJV Holy Bible. Retail: $59.99. Our Price: $41.99. Save: $18.00 (30%) Buy Now. View more titles. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust.
DRA. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return to the earth, out of which thou wast taken: for dust thou art, and into dust thou shalt return. ERV. You will work hard for your food, until your face is covered with sweat. You will work hard until the day you die, and then you will become dust again.
By the sweat of your face You will eat bread, Till you return to the ground, Because from it you were taken; For you are dust, And to dust you shall return." King James Bible In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou [art], and unto dust shalt thou return.
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating
8 Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 9 Was not spoken of the soul. 10 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 11 Is our destined end or way; 12 But to act, that each to-morrow. 13 Find us farther than to-day. 14 Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 15 And our hearts, though stout and brave, 16 Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
