Old Stock
Hortense Calisher
1950
Hester sat down quietly next to her mother, whose sewing went on and on, a mild substitute for conversation. For a while, Hester watched the long, important-looking shadows that encroached upon the hills, like enigmas stated every afternoon but never fully solved. Then she leaned carefully toward Miss Onderdonk. “May I go see your parlor?” she…
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Behold the Lord, my soul, lookup to Him
Behold the Lord, my soul, look up to Him
Who made you, give Him worship due,
Lest you be lost when He be wroth with you—
For your sin, O wayward one, your grievous sin.
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