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Text Illustrations
William Herbert Carruth’s poem, “Dreamer of Dreams,” shows how the rise and fall of dreams shapes our lives as well as creating congregational health.


We are all of us dreamers of dreams,

On visions our childhood is fed;

And the heart of the child is unhaunted, it seems,

By the ghosts of dreams that are dead.


From childhood to youth’s but a span

And the years of our life are soon sped;

But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,

When the first of his dreams is dead.


………………………………………………………


He may live on by compact and plan

When the fine bloom of living is shed,

But God pity the little that’s left of a man

When the last of his dreams is dead.


Let him show a brave face if he can,

Let him woo fame or fortune instead,

Yet there’s not much to do but to bury a man

When the last of his dreams is dead.