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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 3"

But
I have not, either in this or in my preceding narrative, attempted to give
a sermon as I preached it. I have only sought to present the substance of
it in a form fitter for being read, somewhat cleared of the unavoidable,
let me say necessary--yes, I will say _valuable_--repetitions and
enforcements by which the various considerations are pressed upon the minds
of the hearers. These are entirely wearisome in print--useless too, for
the reader may ponder over every phrase till he finds out the purport of
it--if indeed there be such readers nowadays.
I rose, went down to the bath in the rocks, had a joyous physical ablution,
and a swim up and down the narrow cleft, from which I emerged as if myself
newly born or raised anew, and then wandered about on the downs full of
hope and thankfulness, seeking all I could to plant deep in my mind the
long-rooted truths of resurrection, that they might be not only ready to
blossom in the warmth of the spring-tides to come, but able to send out
some leaves and promissory buds even in the wintry time of the soul, when
the fogs of pain steam up from the frozen clay soil of the body, and make
the monarch-will totter dizzily upon his throne, to comfort the eyes of the
bewildered king, reminding him that the King of kings hath conquered Death
and the Grave.


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