Abundance is scooped from abundance yet abundance remains.
The hills are reared, the seas are scooped in vain If learning's altar vanish from the plain.
Bran grabbed my hand,pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest. "Oh God. " He scooped a mummified head from the chest by a scalp lock and thrust it at me. "All of them are mine. " This was officially the weirdest version of "come down to my place and I'll show you some etchings" I've ever been hit with.
To think that before the hills were formed, or the channels of the sea were scooped out, God loved me; that from everlasting to everlasting His mercy is upon His people. Is not that a consolation?