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Even to old age I [am] He, and to grey hairs I carry, I made, and I bear, yea, I carry and deliver.

To whom do ye liken Me, and make equal? And compare Me, that we may be like?

-- They are pouring out gold from a bag, And silver on the beam they weigh, They hire a refiner, and he maketh it a god, They fall down, yea, they bow themselves.

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