Poem July 17, 1909 Issue

Him evermore I behold...

Longfellow

Him evermore I behold
Walking in Galilee,
Through the cornfield's waving gold,
In hamlet or grassy wold,
By the shores of the Beautiful Sea.
He toucheth the sightless eyes;
Before him the demons flee;
To the dead he sayeth, Arise!
To the living, Follow me!
And that voice still soundeth on
From the centuries that are gone,
To the centuries that shall be.

Longfellow.

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