Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 3 · column 2 of 9 · from the scan, no model involved
“Our friends are crossing over, We miss them from our side. So many friends have left us To cross the Jordan tide They are crossing one by one--”etc. It used to make the passing of a friend a little more endurable to hear a competent male quartet render that song. Seems that is passe, now. Singing, that is.
The passing of those dear to use leaves a void that nothing can fill. “Gone on before.” “Waiting at the end of the trail.” “Walk slowly down the trail, I’ll follow soon.” Trite and empty phrases when the heart is breaking.
I like to think that out there somewhere, in the sunshine of God’s eternal love, they are waiting. Sometimes ‘when the wind down the river is fair’ we can almost catch a glimpse of them waiting on the shore, hear the beauty of their singing.
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