“And where he swam, the constant sun lies sleeping, Over the verdant plain that makes his bed; And all the noisy waves go freshly leaping, Like gamesome boys over the churchyard dead; The light in vain keeps looking for his face, Now screaming sea-fowl settle in his place.”

Psalm 92:4:⁠—

“For thou, Lord, hast made me glad through thy work: I will triumph in the works of thy hands.”

“For thou, Lord, hast made me glad through thy work: I will triumph in the works of thy hands.”

3902