“You see that I am still in the land of the dying, ”wrote Philip Phillips, ”The Singing Pilgrim, ”shortly before his death at Delaware, Ohio. ”Why I linger so long is to me a problem. The precious Saviour is more to me than I ever expected when I was well. Often during the night seasons I have real visions; I am walking on the banks of the Beautiful River, and getting glimpses of the bright Beyond. The lines that come most often to me are these:
A country so bright and so fair,
And oft are its glories contest,
But what must it be to be there?'