Pilgrims of Promise(187)

Wil looked at his father knowingly. He had seen the same vision and was comforted. He took a deep, resolute breath and planted his sturdy staff firmly into the pebbled bed of the River Weser. Frieda approached to lay a hand softly on his elbow, and he turned his shining eyes toward hers. “It is time,” he said.

Wil faced his father once more. “We ought to take our first steps together.”

The baker nodded humbly. “Together it shall be.”

Then, rendering their thanks to heaven, Wilhelm Godson Freimann and Heinrich Godson Lieberlicht squared their shoulders toward Stedingerland and smiled as their fellows made ready behind them. It was time to claim that which they had been given, to lay hold of the prize hard won. With seabirds soaring high above, the two stepped bravely into the kindly currents of their appointed destinies. The warm waters of the Weser welcomed them gladly, and with a triumphant shout they splashed through the clear river of liberty as freemen, well forged on the anvil of suffering and prepared by truth to serve others in the gardens of the sun.