Shall we gather at the river? John the Baptizer is there,
proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Shall we
gather at the river, the beautiful, beautiful river? Where crystal tides are
forever flowing, where bright angels tread, along with the saints and all the
population of Judea and Jerusalem?
Shall we gather at the river? And wear camel-hair and leather? Shall we confess our sins in the face of axes and fire? Shall we actually give away our possessions, and work for honest wages? Shall we give up the power of position? Shall we gather at the river, in the wilderness – underneath a sky that threatens to rip open at any moment and pour down on us the floodgates of heaven?
The river is beautiful, beautiful – but those banks are stormy. Too idealistic. Not realistic. It’s dangerous out there, and that John is a radical. Shall we gather at the river? No. Perhaps not.
Shall we gather at the river? And wear camel-hair and leather? Shall we confess our sins in the face of axes and fire? Shall we actually give away our possessions, and work for honest wages? Shall we give up the power of position? Shall we gather at the river, in the wilderness – underneath a sky that threatens to rip open at any moment and pour down on us the floodgates of heaven?
The river is beautiful, beautiful – but those banks are stormy. Too idealistic. Not realistic. It’s dangerous out there, and that John is a radical. Shall we gather at the river? No. Perhaps not.
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