A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,
And leaped like a steed o'er the race track blue,
Then up behind her, the dust of the sea,
A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view.
by Emily Dickinson
190
He was weak, and I was strong-then-
So He let me lead him in-
I was weak, and He was strong then-
So I let him lead me-Home.
'Twasn't far-the door was near-
'Twasn't dark-for He ...