There was a hymn we used to sing when I was a child, one of those lusty, murderous chants characteristic of the Anglican Church in its highVictorian pomp. Written in 1894, it vibrates with imperial certainty—of salvation, election, sure destiny.
God is working his purpose out
As year succeeds to year.
God is working his purpose out
And the time is drawing near.
Nearer and nearer draws the time,
The time that will surely be:
When the earth shall be filled with the glory of God
As the waters cover the sea.
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THE ST. ALWYNN GIRLS AT SEA SHEILA HETI
There was a general sadness that day on the ship. Dani was walking listlessly from cabin to cabin, delivering little paper flyers announcing the talent show at the end of the month. She had made them the previous week; then had come news that the boys' ship would not be attending. It almost wasn't worth handing out flyers at all—almost as if the show had been cancelled. The boys' ship had changed course; it was now going to be near Gibraltar on the night of the performance—nowhere near where their ship would be, in the middle of the North Atlantic sea. Every girl in school had already heard Dani sing and knew that her voice was strong and good. The important thing was for Sebastien to know. Now Sebastien would never know, and it might be months before she would see him again—if she ever would see him again. All she had to look forward to now were his letters, and they were only delivered once a week, and no matter how closely Dani examined them, she could never have perfect confidence that he loved her, because of all his mentions of a girlfriend back home.
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