Obituary of Madeline Elizabeth Eastman

THE VALLEY OF PRAYER There’s a quiet deep vale by the wayside of life And the name of this valley is Prayer; It is hid from the world with its tumult and strife, And the angel of peace dwelleth there. Winding down through its calm flows the river of God, All agleam with the glory on high; And I feel in my soul, as I kneel on its sod, A sweet rapture that comes from the sky. The breezes that blow through this valley of prayer are as soft as the sighing of love, And as pure as the day on the clover bloom there, or the raindrops that fall from above. The wild storms that come nigh it soon swoon into calm in this deep, hidden valley of prayer; And the leaves of the trees there are rich with the balm that heals all my path and my care. When the tempest is on me, and fierce in its wrath, and my heart is sore pressed with its care, I turn from the world, and gladly enter the path that leads down to the valley of prayer.