‘At the smiling of the river,
Mirror of the Saviour’s face
Saints whom death will never sever
Lift their songs of saving grace.’
“His voice was so confident that it steadied all present and the chorus rang out clearly. Then all together they sang:
‘Soon we’ll reach the silver river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.’
“And the chorus was strong, clear and almost exultant. After repeating the Lord’s Prayer, the minister read the service and we went to the grave. On the way my friend told me of the many times he had been present at this same little family service in the Michigan home when each sang his verse in the old hymn. ‘The last verse was father’s, and after his death they all sang it for him, and now the little granddaughter had picked up the broken thread of song for her sweet young auntie.’