"No rush of the mournful waters
Breaks on the ear,
To tell us when Life is strongest,
That Death flows near.
"But through throbbing hearts of cities
In the heat of the day,
The cool, dark River passeth
On its silent way.
"This is the River that follows
Wherever we go,
No sand so dry and thirsty,
But these strange waters flow.
"Many waters go softly dreaming
On to the sea,
But the river of Death flows softest
To Thee and me.
"And the Lord's voice on the waters
Lingereth sweet,
He that is washed needest only
To wash his feet."
CHAPTER XIII
THE LOVE THAT NEVER FAILS
Go in peace, soul beautiful and blest!
Yet high above the limits of our seeing,
And folded far within the inmost heart,
And deep below the deeps of conscious being,
Thy splendor shineth! There O God! Thou art.
When John reached London it was in the gray misty dawning. The streets
were nearly deserted, and an air of melancholy hung over the long rows
of low dwellings.
Pages:
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359