f Mosier that's known.

* * * * *

A Praise

There is a beautiful sea called memory. Many ships come sailing to
me through the whole day,
From over the beautiful sea of memory.
The deep wide sea, the great high sea,
My beautiful sea of memory.

My beautiful ships on the great high sea.
Some are aged like, and hazed in the light of gray.
Others are as the roses that bloom in May.
Come sailing to me along by the shore through the whole day.

Deeds of kindness that are written
As the stars over the deep blue sea. Sailing along those that love me.
My beautiful ships the light of the mind.
Sailing out of the yesterdays to me.
Over the deep wide sea, the great high sea,
My beautiful sea of memory.

* * * * *

A High Praise

I sing of the great king who reigns in a city far above the star strewn
blue. He is master and king over all creation, over the heaven and its
angels, and the earth with its people, too.

There is a story true as the ages are old, sung by all the children of
nature, calling the ancient times unto the present fold. Singing all the
children of the great king these anthems as the ages roll.

High as the heavens above the earth, so high are his ways. Just children
speaking of things in deeds and plays. Jehovah is higher, the great
creator, he who gave one for the salvation of our days.

* * * * *

A High Praise

Over the rampage of the ages wild, came the voice of Mosier to me. As
the sighing winds blow over the mountains and orchard valleys, ye
stealthy lights that gleam upon the seas; most assuredly have you been
born again. Have your souls been reclaimed by my spirit--I who holds
that light of Calverie. Do you know me for yourself and not by another?
are the souls that are known of me.

From the surging streams of the northland sealed, of the blue that
shines across the earth revealed; unto all you souls that pray. Do you
hear my voice in harmonies as the vespers play? As the sighing winds
pass over the mountains most assuredly have you been, reclaimed by me. I
have a torchlight descending from my father's throne. I who bare the
sorrows of the world alone.

Is sorrow and pain turned to joy before thee; do you love death as the
others love life. Is there no secret sin with thee, as with them of
unjust strife? I am your strength