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96  There is no stoppage, and never can be stoppage, If I, you, the worlds, all beneath or upon their surfaces,
 * and all the palpable life, were this moment
 * reduced back to a pallid float, it would not avail in the long run,

We should surely bring up again where we now
 * stand,

And as surely go as much farther—and then farther
 * and farther.

A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic
 * leagues, do not hazard the span, or make it
 * impatient,

They are but parts—anything is but a part.

See ever so far, there is limitless space outside
 * of that,

Count ever so much, there is limitless time around
 * that.

My rendezvous is appointed, The Lord will be there, and wait till I come on perfect
 * terms.

I know I have the best of time and space, and was
 * never measured, and never will be measured.

I tramp a perpetual journey, My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff
 * cut from the woods,

No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, or exchange,