Escaping the clutches of the sorcerer in his island hideaway, Avalon and his three female companions set sail on Ghost Runner. On their long voyage they get sucked into a giant whirlpool half a mile wide at its gaping mouth during a severe storm, are attacked by fierce pirates, and eventually discover an unchartered, uninhabited archipelago where they make the tropical paradise their home for six blissful months while the hurricane season rages all around them. Whilst there they find a derelict town on one of the coral atolls and in a hidden chamber beneath the ruins of an ancient temple Avalon unearths a treasure beyond value. On the wall of the secret chamber they also find a pictorial history of the island's inhabitants that reveals a startling fact about the people that had been captured by slavers three decades ago. Avalon is told by a Spirit Being that he is to return the treasure to the rightful owners who are enslaved in a land thousands of miles to the northwest. When they finally arrive at their destination their search for the whereabouts of the slaves leads them into extreme danger.
It is the fourteenth century, and after finding the survivors who have been taken from their island home and sold into slavery to a Sultan’s son in a far distant realm, Avalon is critically wounded in a fierce battle. His poisoned wounds leave him in a deep coma. While waiting for Avalon to recover, Genevieve and Ameliana purchase the slaves’ freedom and prepare the Ghost Runner for the upcoming voyage to return the islanders to their ancestral lands so they can rebuild their lives. The sorcerer Caligastia follows them on their journey on his black-sailed ship using a homing device, a pyramid-shaped crystal that was hidden in the hold of Ghost Runner, but when it was discovered and jettisoned over the side, it implodes in the ocean’s deep depths with such catastrophic force it caused a massive tidal wave. Upon reaching the islanders’ archipelago, they set about the laborious task of rebuilding the derelict town. Both of Avalon’s wives, who are soon due to give birth, decide to take Ghost Runner to the neighboring archipelago where bird life abounds and turtles lay their eggs on a small sandy quay. The egg hunt is ill-fated when a hurricane appears over the horizon. Not wanting to be surrounded by dangerous reef inside the lagoon when the storm hits, Genevieve decides to sail Ghost Runner back to the safety of their home anchorage but with disastrous results. Ten years came and went on their island paradise when, early one morning, a tsunami sweeps across the archipelago and in minutes destroys all they knew and love as they are swept out to sea amongst the debris. Fate intervenes when they are plucked from the storm-tossed and littered ocean by the one man who can lead them back to Avalon’s homeland thousands of miles to the east. After many adventures of sailing through the hurricane season to take advantage of favorable winds to blow them thousands of miles to the east, they arrive at their destination and leave their beloved schooner to travel overland for many months on horseback into the formidable and distant Alps. The expedition is fraught with danger as snow leopards stalk and attack the horses. Not only do they have to contend with snow leopards, wolf packs, treacherous snow-covered trails, and precipitous ravines in the rugged Alps, but a relentless enemy is lying in wait to ambush them to ensure they never reach the kingdom of Nebadon.
An award-winning historian tells a gripping, morally complicated story of murder, greed, race, and the true origins of prison for profit. In the early nineteenth century, as slavery gradually ended in the North, a village in New York State invented a new form of unfreedom: the profit-driven prison. Uniting incarceration and capitalism, the village of Auburn built a prison that enclosed industrial factories. There, “slaves of the state” were leased to private companies. The prisoners earned no wages, yet they manufactured furniture, animal harnesses, carpets, and combs, which consumers bought throughout the North. Then one young man challenged the system. In Freeman’s Challenge, Robin Bernstein tells the story of an Afro-Native teenager named William Freeman who was convicted of a horse theft he insisted he did not commit and sentenced to five years of hard labor in Auburn’s prison. Incensed at being forced to work without pay, Freeman demanded wages. His challenge triggered violence: first against him, then by him. Freeman committed a murder that terrified and bewildered white America. And white America struck back—with aftereffects that reverberate into our lives today in the persistent myth of inherent Black criminality. William Freeman’s unforgettable story reveals how the North invented prison for profit half a century before the Thirteenth Amendment outlawed slavery “except as a punishment for crime”—and how Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and other African Americans invented strategies of resilience and resistance in a city dominated by a citadel of unfreedom. Through one Black man, his family, and his city, Bernstein tells an explosive, moving story about the entangled origins of prison for profit and anti-Black racism.
It is the 14th century when dark spells, magic and sorcery were common and rife across the land. King Avalon is on a quest to find the immortal Sorcerer who long ago put a curse on his ancestors that has been passed down to the first-born son for generation after generation. The curse now affects Avalon, and whenever he sees the last flash of light from the setting sun the metamorphosis takes affect turning him into a black jaguar. He can only change back into human form the next morning if he sees the first flash of dawn's light. Three beautiful women join Avalon on his quest, and they are totally committed to helping him rid himself of the dark spell he is afflicted with. A ninety-foot schooner named 'Ghost Runner' comes into their possession and they set off across the ocean following the next clue to the Sorcerers whereabouts. Extract from novel.....Quick, shouted Avalon, we havent a moment to lose. If we can get the sail sheeted in, it will help drive the ship forward over the anchor. If you take the helm, Ill signal from the bow which way for you to steer. By following the two ropes attached to the clew on the end of the small flogging sail, they found the ends amongst a confusion of ropes. Between them they hauled in the sheet rope until the stiff canvas filled with wind, and once the rope was secured firmly the ship slowly started moving forward across the wind. Genevieve turned and hurried down the heaving deck handhold by handhold until she reached the large wooden steering wheel. She gripped two of the ornate spoked grips tightly and waited for Avalon to direct her from the bow. Avalon studied the familiar anchor-windlass, and when he was sure he remembered which lever to release and how to winch in the chain and anchor, he pointed ahead to show Genevieve which way to steer toward the anchor. The ship had sailed forward and the chain was now slack. He started winding in the chain with the capstan and was glad it was geared with many well-greased cogs to take the strain, as it would have been a hopeless task by himself. The wind was by now gusting up to fifty-knots and Ghost Runner surged up and over the waves as she slowly nosed up to the deeply embedded anchor. By the time the anchor broke free of the seabed, Avalon was a lather of sweat and exhausted. Trying to catch his breath, he was about to shout to Genevieve that the anchor was free, but realised she wouldn't hear him above the roar of the gale force winds and storm tossed seas, so once again he used arm signals for her to change course. Avalon continued straining on the capstan, but this time he had a heavy anchor dangling on the end of the heavy ships chain, and with the ship picking up speed it was an impossible strain for him. He again signalled for Genevieve to round up more into the wind to slow the ship, and he then changed to a different gear on the capstan. He now found there was much less strain as he hauled in the dead weight. By sheer effort and stubborn determination he finally winched the anchor clear of the water and with the last of his remaining strength snugged the anchor into its opening in the bow beside the bowsprit and lashed it with the stout rope provided to prevent it working free. He quickly signalled to Genevieve to fall off the wind and steer a course parallel to the coast. As he rested and regained his strength and breath, he saw that the storm was now upon them with a vengeance and there were flashes of lightning stabbing the sky all around. Luckily the rain hadn't started yet but he knew it wasn't far off. It will be a close run race my boy, he thought. But with luck and God on our side we just might be able to make the safety of the cove. Suddenly remembering Sarina was still on the beach, he looked towards shore and saw her standing at the waters edge looking out at them. He signalled what their intentions were with his one free arm as he hung on to the bulwark with the other, and saw her wave in acknowledgment. He watched for a few moments longer until he saw her turn and run back towards the track that led to the top of the cliff. Good girl, he thought. By now Ghost Runner was riding up and over the enormous waves that had the top three feet breaking, but she took them in her stride. Avalon carefully made his way aft to Genevieve who was gripping the large wheel pale faced, but smiling excitedly. The rain, which had been holding off until now began to lash at them horizontally, stinging his exposed skin and blinding him so that he had to avert his eyes. As Avalon entered the cockpit he shouted above the roar of the gale, "Fall off the wind five degrees my love" As the ship came onto her new course he eased the sheet rope attached to the straining storm sail until it was set just right for the angle of the gale-force gusting winds. Leaning closer to Genevieve he shouted, Do you want me to steer for you? She shook her head and shouted with a glitter in her eyes, No way my love. Im enjoying myself too much. Its the first time Ive ever steered a ship. This is so exciting. With the gale-force wind now aft of their beam they were sailing along with the huge breaking swells, and when one particularly nasty rogue wave rose up behind them threatening to break over them, Ghost Runner lifted her stern and shot forward down the face of the curling monster just before the wave broke with a roar of foaming white water. They were very impressed with Ghost Runners performance, for she handled the atrocious conditions like the thoroughbred she was and seemed in her true element. The steering was also light and responsive to Genevieve's course changes. All too soon the entrance to the cove came into view through the lashing rain, and they almost lost heart at the site of the narrow opening frothing and broiling with crashing waves. Avalon climbed up into the rigging a short way, and hanging on grimly as the ship pitched and rolled he had a better vantage point to see the pass. Keeping a wary eye on the waves rising up behind them, he tried to judge exactly when to direct Genevieve to alter course to port and line the bow of their valiant ship on the narrow opening between the tall black cliffs. With Genevieve obeying his every hand signal explicitly, they held their breath's as they made their turn. If the ship broached now all would be lost, but Ghost Runner held her course and ran true and sweet towards the extremely narrow opening. With a gut swooping rush they were off, surfing down a fifteen-foot wave front, and with white water boiling all about them they entered the narrow passage at break neck speed, deafened by the roar of the breaking wave upon the outer cliff face on either side of the passage. The narrow pass then seemed to close in around them and the top of the cliffs appeared to meet high overhead, but these impressions were only fleeting as they concentrated on keeping to the centre of the narrow, fifty-foot wide channel. The roar of the waves and the gale were suddenly muted and with just the sound of rushing, foaming water all around them, it was unnerving in the half-light as they waited for the crash and crunch of the enormous keel grinding into the sharp, ungiving, submerged rocks beneath them. Suddenly they were clear of the cliffs and sailed into the enclosed, calm bay. As the wave lost its impetus, they also lost the wind which had driven them through the pass. With Avalon still in the rigging, he directed Genevieve to steer toward the sandy beach no more than a thousand yards off to their starboard. Ghost Runner slowly lost way, and quickly climbing down from the rigging Avalon ran forward to the anchor winch calling out to Genevieve as he went, Hold steady on your course.
Robin Bernstein relates a bloody tale of race, murder, and injustice that forces us to rethink the origins and consequences of America's immoral system of prisons for profit. Bernstein brings to life the story of William Freeman, a free Black man who in 1840 was forced into unpaid labor as an inmate of Auburn State Prison in New York. After his release, he murdered four members of a white family, as revenge for the theft of his labor. His trial saw the crystallization of a nefarious ideology-the idea that African Americans are inherently criminal-yet it also shaped Auburn as an important node in the long battle for Black freedom"--
We had been having a relaxing picnic in the shady glade beside the beautiful waterfall in the ranges, and the children were off playing games amongst the nearby wild flowers. I was contentedly lying back with my eyes shut, when Midnight, my Percheron draught horse began to snort and become restless. As there was no grass for the horses to browse on, we had secured them by their halter ropes to some trees nearby and within sight of us. I was instantly alert, and sitting up saw Midnight standing with his head held high snorting in alarm. His long, thick tail was stiff and held high, which was a sure sign that he had seen or sensed something, a threat of some kind. By now the other two horses were snorting and pulling back on their halter ropes. I quickly sat up and reached across for my gun as there were packs of feral dogs and dingoes up in this rainforest wilderness, and knew from past experiences that they were partial to horse flesh, when and if the opportunity presented itself. A small child would also be a good sized feed for these carnivores and I suddenly remembered that the children were playing near the edge of the dense forest and were possibly being stalked. I quickly called out to them to return to me. They popped up from amongst the tall flower heads like a couple of garden fairies and came over to me with quizzical expressions, obviously wondering if they had done something wrong and were in trouble. As soon as they saw the gun in my hands and the look on my face their expressions changed to one of alarm. To ease their fears I said quietly, “It’s okay, nothing to worry about. Something has made the horses jittery. Sit down on the blanket and stay put while I scout the area. We all know horses are prone to start and jump at unfamiliar shadows.” I slowly walked over to the restless Percheron, looking in the direction he was staring so fixedly, but could see nothing of concern. I made sure I kept the horses between me and whatever it was out there, so I could see what it was before it disappeared back into the undergrowth. Something sure had Midnight spooked, and as I approached I started talking softly to him, just to let him know I was coming up behind him. In the state he was in now, he could get a fright and kick out before realising it was only me. I knew my way around horses, and knew their bad habits, sometimes more than I knew about people. I made sure his ears pricked and had turned to face me before stepping into range of his massive hooves. Knowing that he knew I was just behind him I confidently put my hand on his rump and stroked him as I walked towards his head. I tried to calm him with soft words and calm assurance. “Easy now Midnight, easy now boy. What’s upsetting you old fella? Something lurking in the bushes you’re not happy about?” As I rubbed the side of his neck affectionately, I stood by his head looking out into the shadows to see what he could see. I could perceive no threat, no packs of feral dogs or dingoes. Suddenly I saw movement, a mere flicker on the periphery of my vision then gone. ‘Maybe just a leaf fluttering,’ I thought to myself. My eyes refocused on the area and I tried to make sense of what I was seeing standing in the deeper shadows. Whatever it was out there must have suddenly realised I had seen it, for I heard a grunt of sound and the bushes suddenly shimmered and rustled as if something big had brushed the branches to one side. I then thought I heard the faint sound of feet running and then nothing. But it could have just been the wind in the trees or the sounds of the burbling creek. This was the second time we had been on a picnic recently and something had stalked us. I was suddenly determined to find out who or what it was, and with a quick glance back at the children I nodded my head reassuringly at them, and set off after the creature or persons unknown. I was used to the bush and enjoyed hunting wild game, as it allowed me to become one with nature, moving slowly and stealthfully, with all my senses heightened and highly alert. Once I entered the shadowy bushes I took a deep slow breath, then re-centred my energies and focus. I felt the energy of all things wrap its embrace about me, and the sensation always empowered me and opened my eyes in total awareness. I breathed out slowly, then set off following the signs of something big having pushed its way through the undergrowth. The first sign was a bent twig with the sap flowing freely, so I knew it was fresh. The next sign was a scuffed area of muddy ground. Even as I looked down I saw one edge of it crumble down within itself. Once I was assured of the direction, I increased my pace. I had gone several hundred yards when I saw something that belied my senses. There was a small clearing up ahead where the undergrowth became sparse under a massive strangler fig, and I was just in time to see the back of something hairy disappear into the foliage on the far side. It looked more human than animal, for it was running upright on two legs and had the shape of a person. But what made me disbelieve what I was seeing, was the creature was over eight feet tall and covered from head to foot in mottled dark hair or fur, which blended with the shadows perfectly. I increased my pace until I was running headlong. As I entered the bushes on the far side of the little clearing I suddenly skidded to a halt in bewilderment. Standing fifty feet away in another small clearing, lit with smoky beams of sunlight from our campfire, was the person or creature I was chasing. I was so stunned I forgot about the gun in my hands and stood staring transfixed for the beat of four heartbeats. I simply could not believe what I was seeing. The creature was definitely human, as the eyes that stared fixedly across at me would haunt me for months to come. There was acute intelligence in them, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of anger glint in those dark brown eyes. ‘Was it angry that I was chasing it?’ I thought to myself. In the blink of an eye the apparition turned and was gone. I was so shocked I stood rooted to the spot with my mouth hanging open in disbelief, my eyes wide, too stunned to even consider setting off in pursuit. Had I just seen the fur-covered mythical Yowie who was supposed to inhabit the wild mountains and impenetrable rainforest jungle? That is, if the hundreds of sightings over the decades about the creature were true, or even half true.
WWII has broken out and the Japanese are sweeping down through the Pacific Islands towards Australia and are seemingly unstoppable. Utilising the specialised skills in tracking and bush survival Joe had learnt in his youth going walkabout with the aboriginals on his fathers 4 million acre cattle station in far north Western Australia, Joe is made an officer and put in command of a team of twelve highly trained men. These men are part of an elite force called the Australian Jungle Survival and Rescue Detachment. Their missions are to rescue any Allied airmen shot down by the enemy over New Guinea and surrounding Pacific islands. They are flown to the crash sites in a C47 transport plane with an escort of fighter planes, and under cover of night parachute into enemy held territory to search for and rescue any survivors, who they then take to the coast for extraction by submarine, seaplane or destroyer. Extract from novel...The night was so sultry and humid I could have cut it with a knife, and so dark it was impossible to see my hand in front of my face as I parachuted towards the invisible jungle somewhere two thousand feet below me. My chute was made from black silk and it was invisible against the night sky above me, and with no moon and stars to illuminate the night, I felt like I was falling down a bottomless, black well. The drone of the perfectly good aeroplane we had just jumped from was gradually diminishing into the distance, until the only sounds were the sigh and rush of wind passing through the many cords attached to the parachute. Somewhere above and behind me were twelve other men, my team of highly trained specialists in jungle warfare and survival, and in all likelihood experiencing the same emotions and trepidation as I was. Our mission was to locate and extract any survivors from a crashed American bomber that had been shot down by Japanese zeros yesterday. If any survivors were found, we would make our way to the coast for extraction by submarine that was hopefully heading towards the coordinates of the pickup point at this very moment. Since I had jumped from the C47 I had been mentally counting down the seconds, and with the jungle canopy now racing towards me at break neck speed, I braced myself as I stalled the parachute to lessen the impact of colliding with the trees and branches any second. As the sudden and violent impact drove the wind from my lungs I was unaware I had been holding my breath until I exhaled loudly. I tried to curl myself into a ball to avoid injuring myself as I fell through the tree canopy with a loud crash and crack of breaking branches and covered my face with one arm as I was whipped and slashed by the passing branches and leaves. The parachute finally became snagged in the high branches and I jerked to a sudden stop and hung suspended from my harness. I fumbled for the quick release catches on my pack strapped to my front and letting it fall listened intently for the sound of impact with the ground. Counting the seconds I was surprised to only count to five before I heard the dull thud. I was closer to the ground than I would have thought and thanked my lucky stars the chute got caught up just when it did. My next task was to release the chute harness and climb down the tree I was caught in without falling and injuring myself. I had a small torch in one of the pockets of my flak jacket and when I shone it around and below me, I saw what I was looking for. Just off to my right, and ten feet below, was a stout branch that I hoped would support my weight. I took a deep breath and then put the torch between my teeth before punching the quick release catch of my harness. As I fell the branch flashed past me and I grabbed at it with both hands and hung onto it tightly for dear life. My arms felt like they had been ripped from their sockets and I quickly swung a leg over the branch and hauled myself up onto it and sat astride it while I caught my breath and tried to calm my madly racing heart. I adjusted the straps securing the Sten gun to my chest then began to slide and pull myself along the branch to the trunk of the massive rainforest tree. Ten minutes later I was safely on the ground, none the worse for my descent except for some skin missing off my left knee, which must have happened when I first hit the branches plummeting through the canopy. I removed the gun from around my neck and cocking it held it at the ready as I shone the torch about in case I had fallen into the midst of a Japanese patrol, as had happened on one of my rescue missions several months ago. Luckily the six Japanese soldiers at the time were so startled and terrified by my sudden and noisy appearance from above, I had been able to quickly despatch them with my machine gun before they could even get a shot off. Luckily I was alone, and breathing a sigh of relief I then searched for my survival pack with my spare ammunition, medical kit, water and food rations. Quickly locating it near the trunk, I put it on my back then pulled my compass out from beneath my shirt. I always hung it from my neck on a strong piece of leather thonging so I didnt lose it, as it would be easy to get hopelessly lost in the dense jungle, especially when it was overcast. From the coordinates sent out to base by the radio operator of the mortally hit bomber, I knew I had to maintain a course of 280 degrees from my location, and walk for at least a mile or so before hopefully finding the wrecked plane and any survivors. But first I had to find all of my team members before beginning the search. That was usually a difficult and time-consuming task, as we would be scattered across the jungle in a long line. We had a method of finding each other that had worked perfectly on the hundreds of missions we had so far accomplished. We each had a small, round, tin fox-whistle hanging from the dog tags around our necks, and when it was blown it made the sound of a rabbit in distress. To the enemy it would be just another of the hundreds of animal noises to be heard in the jungle at night, but to us it was like a beacon in the night as the shrill, distinctive sound carried a long way.
With its handy journal size, paper-over-boards format, and tasteful two-color borders on each page, A Journal for Healing provides a powerful, helpful way for people facing serious illnesses or a long recovery to explore and come to terms with their life-altering illness.
21 days is a labor of LOVE...Love from our heavenly Father to every son and daughter seeking to change...to every person. For when we seek we do find. Sometimes we dont find what we're seeking where we think it is suppose to be...yet God is faithful...if only we would believe and keep our faith in Him. God labors over us all...all the time. Some of the Merriam-Websters definitions for 'labor' is: to strive to effect or achieve; to treat or work out often in laborious detail; relating to. He desires that we have the answers and solutions that we seek after. He is more than willing, and is the first to say "yes" and Amen to our requests, statements of faith, to our prayers. Fore God knows He has already made available to us every single answer we need and all the authority and power to see it brought into full fruition...21 days is a labor of LOVE because the LORD also knows that more often than not... we know not how to see nor hear those answers. Answers that are with us, just as He's always our Immanuel...God is with us. This devotional is like a compass or a GPS guide. It guides us to the way in which we are to go...to receive that which we seek... to be righteousness conscious minded, a key that unlocks many doors. Just as we are...the righteousness of God.(1Cor.1:30).The word of God will wash over you and I as if we were standing underneath a waterfall on the caribbean isle. It will come through us like a fire and burn out all the chaff and all the weeds. The Lord Jesus Himself says it well...Jesus replied, "EVERY plant which My heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted" (Matt.15:13). In Mark 11: 22-24, Jesus said to them(His diciples), " Have faith in God! I can guarantee this truth: This is what will be done for someone who doesnt doubt but believes what he says will happen: He can say to this mountain, ' Be uprooted and thrown into the sea.' and it will be done for him. Thats why I tell you to have faith that you have already received whatever you pray for, and it will be yours. Thats what its all about. Examining what we are believing...truely, with a non-condemning eye, ear and voice. Assitance in becoming all that we are designed to be. Embracing the peace of heart and mind thats waiting for us...and has been since our very beginning. Making what is our true realty...our true reality. This devotional helps to do just that...we all have a part to play in everything...that includes right thinking, right teaching and putting our faith and beliefs in the right place...in the Holy Trinity. Then we all...can enlighten someone else...in the way in which they should go...we can be a 'eye witness'. Personal experiences are the best kind to relay. There are 21 verses; 21 faith statements; and 21 prayers in '21 Days' . Did you know scientist and researchers and universities alike have published research documentating that "yes," it takes 21 days to make or break a habit. Thats good news. Its been freely available this information for years. Search the web...you will see it for yourself. So in saying that I say this...theres always help...we just need more willing to help...that 'hand' pointing out the direction in which to go. I sure do believe, hope and pray that everyone sees the results they are seeking. Because i know this 21 days...is true and truth manifested. Be good to yourself.
This lovely keepsake book provides a way for expectant moms and dads to document the most exciting nine months in their lives, while they wait for their baby to arrive. Includes writing tips and suggestions for how to use the book, with plenty of space to paste in photos, ultrasound pictures, and other memorabilia.
Finding Integrity In America Again: an educational program designed to assist in bringing integrity back to America one person at a time. We the people make America what it is today, good or bad...this program has been designed to bring peoples' hearts back to a place of ethical decision-making. This program is designed as a discussion platform, written out questions and a program designed as a retrospective working program for those that undertake it. I believe this program is relevant to Generation Z and can receive significant benefits from this program. From every walk of life, hearts can be changed to relinquish the bad and embrace the good...if only someone or something will lead and guide them to the way. This program, I dare say, can do that. Righteous Leadership begets Righteous Followers. Author Robin D. Freeman
The steel shod hooves struck him full in the face with such power he was sent reeling backwards, and he screamed in agony as one eye exploded from the impact and half his face was ripped off. Despite the agony of his injuries he was acutely aware that his left foot had nothing beneath it, and his mind recoiled in horror as he teetered on the edge of the trail with a black void sucking at him. The sixteen riders and sixty four horses in the expedition are beset with cataclysmic snow storms and minus thirty degree temperatures as they travel higher into the forbidding Alps. The horses are attacked by fierce snow leopards time and again as they camp in the rugged mountains, and fearless wolf packs also prey on the horses. Unknown to the expedition, to prevent Avalon's descendants laying claim to the throne as the legitimate heirs, soldiers of the false King lay in ambush to ensure they never reach the kingdom of Nebadon alive. There are traitors everywhere ready to betray them for a handful of silver coins, and trusting anyone could come at the price of their freedom or death.
Poems and Prose, acrostic style---All centered around, invovling New Hope. The x-factor here is in all 26 poems its 26 different names of God in the Hebrew original language. As is Zion in all 26 poems. Each poem/prose is from A to Z. New Hope was written to encourage and to share.To inspire people to continue looking to Jesus for all things and to say God is with us in a mighty way. I hope and I pray its enjoyable to the reader.All Inspired by the Holy Trinity, all glory is Gods.
Explores the changing economic, social and political role of the Anglo-American firm. Focusing on its formative development between the later 17th and the early 20th centuries, the editors bring together a collection which employs selected documents and analytical commentary to illustrate the external role of the firm and public perceptions of it.
Exploring the changing economic, social and political role of the Anglo-American firm, this two-part collection of rare texts covers the period 1700-1850. Each part features an introduction which provides an overview of the development of the British and American business corporation in their respective periods and places it in its wider contexts.
Exploring the changing economic, social and political role of the Anglo-American firm, this two-part collection of rare texts covers the period 1700-1850. Each part features an introduction which provides an overview of the development of the British and American business corporation in their respective periods and places it in its wider contexts.
Exploring the changing economic, social and political role of the Anglo-American firm, this two-part collection of rare texts covers the period 1700-1850. Each part features an introduction which provides an overview of the development of the British and American business corporation in their respective periods and places it in its wider contexts.
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