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Hit it!
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Talking about standing ground, the sower went forth to sow, and some seeds fell by the wayside, not to be found.
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For the birds came and devoured them.
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Up, turn them around.
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Applause.
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Some fell on stony places, and when the sun was up, they were scorched with no traces.
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Some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprung up and choked them, be forewarned.
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Devour!
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Scorch!
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Choke!
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You're standing at the gates of hell, but don't back down.
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You've got to stand your ground.
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Don't be turned around.
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When trouble strikes, don't faint.
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That's the making of everyday saints.
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The lazy won't plow by reason of the cold he begs in harvest, and his dreams grow old.
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You've got to keep this world from dragging you down, that on your head, wisdom plants a crown.
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Now come on up here for my altar call.
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Give your life to Jesus Christ.
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The fruit you plant won't fall.
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Wash yourself clean at the Orthodox Church's awesome baptistry.
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