Page:The Praises of Amida, 1907.djvu/74

 Under the surface, life in death,
 * Shiny tangle and oozy moans,

Creeping things with watery breath,
 * Blackening roots and whitening bones.

On the surface, a shining reach,
 * A crystal couch for the moon-beam's rest,

Starry ripples along the beach,
 * Sunset songs from the breezy west.

Under the surface, glooms and fears,
 * Treacherous currents, swift and strong,

Deafening rush in drowning ears,—
 * Have ye rightly read my song?

.

. 1. I once read a story written by an American novelist, the hero of which was a young Christian preacher who enjoyed a great reputation for holiness among his fellow-believers.