‘On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy golden day.’
“After the chorus there was silence—a choking silence that benumbed me. Then my friend whispered, ‘It is their family prayer service and it is her verse.’ Then the little girl was lifted in her father’s arms, and sweet and clear and wonderingly came:
‘Ere we reach the shining river
Lay we every burden down,
Grace our spirits will deliver
And provide a robe and crown.’
“I do not know how I endured it, the emotion of that moment. In a broken manner they sobbed through the chorus and then the younger brother, a lad of fourteen, sang: