Thus says the LORD, the Holy One of Israel, and his Maker, Ask me of things to come concerning my sons, and concerning the work of my hands, you command me.
Woe unto him that strives with his Maker! Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. Shall the clay say to him that fashions it, What do you make? or of your work, He has no hands?
A son honors his father, and a servant his master: if then I be a father, where is my honor? and if I be a master, where is my fear? says the LORD of hosts unto you, O priests, that despise my name. And you say, How have we despised your name?
Furthermore we have had fathers of our flesh who corrected us, and we gave them reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live?