“The woman singeth at her spinning wheel
A pleasant chant, ballad, or barcarolle;
She thinketh of her song, upon the whole,
Far more than of the flax; and yet the reel
If full and artfully her fingers feel
With quick adjustment, provident control,
The lines, too subtly twisted to unroll,
Out to a perfect thread; I hence appeal
To the dear Christian Church–That we may do
Our Father’s business in these temples mirk,
Thus swift and steadfast; thus intent and strong
While thus, apart from toil, our souls pursue
Some high, calm, spherical tune, and prove our work
The better for the sweetness of our song.”
It was a glorious privilege for the disciples to be with their Master on the Holy Mount. They carried the impression of the Transfiguration in their hearts as long as they lived. Peter would have stayed there, and wanted to build tabernacles for the Master and for the visitants from heaven. He tells us in his own narrative in Mark’s Gospel, that he did not know what to say. When we do not know what to say we would better keep quiet. But Peter had not learned to do this – he thought he must always be saying something, and of necessity he said some things he had better not have said.
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