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Tempest tossed and sore afflicted, sin defiled and care oppressed, Come to me, all ye that labor; come, and I will give ye rest. Fear no more, O doubting hearted; weep no more, O weeping eye! Lo, the voice of your redeemer; lo, the songful morning near. Here one hour you toil and combat, sin and suffer, bleed and die; In my father’s quiet mansion soon to lay your burden by. Bear a moment, heavy laden, weary hand and weeping eye. Lo, the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom here.”
Life wasn’t about becoming, was it? It was about being. Dr. Kellet would have approved this thought. And everything was ephemeral, yet everything was eternal,
