THE BRIDGE BUILDER
An old man going a lone highway
Came at the evening cold and gray
To a chasm vast and deep and wide;
The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him.
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old man, ” said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting your time with building here.
You never again will pass this way;
Your journey will end with the closing day;
You have crossed the chasm deep and wide;
Why build you this bridge at eventide? ”
The builder lifted his old gray head
“Good friend in the way that I’ve come, ” he said,
“There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way,
This stream that has been as naught to me
To the fair-haired youth might a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I’m building the bridge for him. ”
Edited by Margaret S. Lipscomb (Mrs. R. E.), Mullins, SC, an