Often in the summer, as I go to or come from the vestry, I sit downfor a moment on the turf that covers my old friend Rodgers, and thinkthat this body of mine is everyday moldering away, til it shall fall aheap of dust into it's appointed place. But what is that to me? It isto me the drawing nigh of the fresh morning of life when I shall beyoung and strong again, glad in the presence of the wise and beloveddead, and unspeakably glad in the presence of God.
George MacDonaldAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist, Poet
- Nationality: scottish
- Born: December 10, 1824
- Died: September 18, 1905
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