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date: 1920-01-15

names-on-the-page: Dr. Phillips & wife, Mr. & Mrs. Watts, Miss Martha Watts, Mr. & Mrs. Greenbaum, Mr. Yost, Miss Tuthill, Mrs. Wallace, The family.

transcription: January 15, 1920

Dr. Phillips & wife,
Mr. & Mrs. Watts,
Miss Martha Watts,
Mr. & Mrs. Greenbaum,
Mr. Yost,
Miss Tuthill,
Mrs. Wallace,
The family.

Dr. Phillips sat first, as it was hist first visit to Patience. We had enjoyed a general conversation on subjects related to Patience, and had taken our usual fall out of the psycho-logists. Patience of course agreed, and said:

"How little wit, o sire, they hae wrapped 'ithin the cloth of office! They swaddle wisd-om and mouthe word, and let wit rust!"

We laughed and Dr. Phillips said he had said it himself, in another way. Patience carried his remark further: "Aye, and thinked it differ!"

The Doctor agreed that he thought it stronger than he expressed it.

"Yea," said Patience, "the root o' thy indignation hath trembered the pillar o' thy righteousness. I say, e'en hath thy very soul quaked with the fill o' truth when thine ears listed to the confusion of argument.

"It be a great giftie, the barb of truth which pricke the complications and leaveth the sunlight o' clarity for to filter through the pit o' thy soul."

"I hae a singin'," she announced and gave Dr. Phillips this wonderful poem on the gold cross he wore on his breast:

-The Master's Burden-

And he hath taken it up.
Even so hath his tongue become
A stream of blood. Even so
Have his hands become tools of office.
Even so hath his utterance become
The lightnings, yea, the thunders,
The knocking at the doorway of doubting.

Yea, he hath taken it up.
He hath lifted up his hands
In the service of labor. Lo, word be
The laborful essence which, uttered,
Moveth the urge within the hearts
Of His own. Behold, then do his hands
Follow the pathway of his words,
Thereby hath he become a perfect vessel
For the containing and the pouring forth!

Behold, he hath taken it up.
He hath lain it upon his breast
As the symbol of patience, for there is
No symbol which bespeaks that patience
Like this. For the flesh of the God-wrought
Fretted upon it, yet lingered.
The head of the God-wrought
Rocked upon it, yet lingered!
The soul of the God-wrought hath
Become a part of it and its shadow
Shall cling through the ages!

Con'd

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