The waters have risen,
The springs are unbound—
The floods break their prison,
And ravin around.
No rampart withstands ’em,
Their fury will last,
Till the Sign that commands ’em
Sinks low or swings past.
Through abysses unproven,
And gulfs beyond thought,
Our portion is woven,
Our burden is brought.
Yet They that prepare it,
Whose Nature we share,
Make us who must bear it
Well able to bear.
Though terrors o’ertake us
We’ll not be afraid,
No power can unmake us
Save that which has made.
Nor yet beyond reason
Nor hope shall we fall—
All things have their season,
And Mercy crowns all.
Then, doubt not, ye fearful—
The Eternal is King—
Up, heart, and be cheerful,
And lustily sing:—
What chariots, what horses,
Against us shall bide
While the Stars in their courses
Do fight on our side?
A Doctor of Medicine
They were playing hide-and-seek with bicycle lamps after tea. Dan had hung his lamp on the apple tree at the end of the hellebore bed in the walled garden, and was crouched by the gooseberry bushes ready to dash off when Una should spy him. He saw her lamp come into the garden and disappear as she hid it under her cloak. While he listened for her footsteps, somebody (they both thought it was Phillips the gardener) coughed in the corner of the herb-beds.
‘All right,’ Una shouted across the asparagus; ‘we aren’t hurting your old beds, Phippsey!’