Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Pilgrim of God
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on earth are but winnowed chaff in His hand. His
daily work is to create suns. He has digged the
ocean and raised the hills; He has clothed the world
with herbs. There is no worker like Him; you must
not match yourself against Him. Bow down before
Him, you passing soul! Lie deep in the dust before
the Lord your God! God’s storm is rushing over
you! God’s anger is upon you like fiery flame!
Bow down, clutch at the hem of His mantle like
a child, and pray for shelter! Lie deep in the dust
and cry for mercy! Humble thyself, oh, soul, before
thy Maker!”
The eyes of the dying man were wide open, his
hands were folded, but his face had lighted up, and
the noise in his throat had ceased.
“Oh, human soul, oh, passing human soul,” cried
the man again, “as surely as you humble yourself
in your last hour before your God, so surely will
He lift you like a child in His arms and carry you
unto the bliss of His paradise!”
The old peasant gave a last sigh, and all was över.
Captain Lennert bowed his head and prayed, and
all those assembled prayed too with heavy sighs.
When they raised their eyes, the old peasant lay
in quiet peace. His eyes still seemed to reflect the
splendor of a glorious vision. His lips smiled, his
face was beautiful. He had seen his God.
“Oh, thou great and beautiful human soul!”
they thought, seeing him there, “thou hast now
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