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4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? 5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. —
Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. [1] The World English Bible translates the passage as: You hypocrite! First, remove the beam out of your own eye, and then you can see clearly to remove the speck out of your brother’s eye. [citation needed]
A beam is a difficult thing to get in one's eye, but it functions as a humorous and hyperbolic metaphor for an extreme flaw. [3] The metaphor comes from woodworking and carpenter workshop. [1] It is often seen as rooted in Jesus' traditional employment as a carpenter.
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use, If thou couldst answer “This fair child of mine Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,” Proving his beauty by succession thine! This were to be new made when thou art old,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. The World English Bible translates the passage as: “The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is sound, your whole body will be full of light. The Novum Testamentum Graece text is:
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue; Use power with power, and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: What need’st thou wound with cunning, when thy might Is more than my o’er-press’d defense can bide? Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knows
But those same tongues, that give thee so thine own, In other accents do this praise confound By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. They look into the beauty of thy mind, And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; Then churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind, To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: