The wind of the Spirit still blows where it will; without inspiration what use is our skill? Joe Scriven, Joe Scriven, how humbly you cry: 'We did it between us the good Lord and I!' You suffered the worst human love can endure, not once but twice lost a love that was sure: yet out of bereavement, your faith holding fast, you wrote for our comfort a song that shall last. *Verse 1 of 'What a friend we have in Jesus' is sung The wind of the Spirit still blows where it will, and never an artist but prays for it still; and never an author but waits for a spark of pure inspiration to banish the dark. The mystery grows! It's hard to assess in realms of the Spirit the greater or less. Joe Scriven, Joe Scriven, who dares to deny: 'We did it between us the good Lord and I!'