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The Eternal Light

The Eternal Light

The Light in Darkness

Nov 07 1948





Dramatis Personae:

NARRATOR

CITIZEN, male (1 line)

CLARA, angry

ANNIE, between age ten and fourteen

JIMMIE, Annie's younger brother

MAGGIE, elderly

WATCHMAN

TILLY, crazy

MR. SANBORN (2 lines)

TEACHER, a kindly woman (3 lines)

HELEN








MUSIC: OPENING CHORDS


CANTOR: SIGNATURE AND DOWN


VOICE: (ECHO) And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying-- Command the children of Israel that they bring unto thee pure oil olive, beaten for the light, to cause the lamps to burn continually in the tabernacle of the congregation, and it shall be a statute forever in your generations.


MUSIC: UP AND OUT


ANNOUNCER: The Eternal Light!


MUSIC: THEME AND DOWN


ANNOUNCER: The National Broadcasting Company and its affiliated independent stations make free time available to present "The Eternal Light." This program comes to you under the auspices of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. Our story today is Sylvia Berger's "The Light in Darkness." Alexander Scourby is narrator and featured as Annie is Joan Lazer.


MUSIC: INTRODUCTION ... THEN BEHIND NARRATOR--


NARRATOR: In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. Now the earth was unformed and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters. And God said, "Let there be light." And there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good; and God divided the light from the darkness. 


MUSIC: UP AND OUT


NARRATOR: Now, before we go into this story -- before we start at the beginning and go wandering through the middle and bring you to the end, that is not an end, but a beginning -- we want you to promise yourself that you're not going to cry. You're not going to cry, you're not going to put your face in your hands, your throat isn't going to get bitter with tears. Because the light came of the darkness, the sound of silence, and the void took form.


MUSIC: WARM ... BEHIND NARRATOR--


NARRATOR: In the state of Massachusetts, in the county Essex, lies the little hamlet of Tewksbury. Now, the year Eighteen Seventy-Six, when Tewksbury came into this story, was a sweet place to live -- washed head and foot by two murmuring rivers, scented in the spring by blossoming fruit trees, comforted in the summer by ripening harvests. Gentle and quiet and peaceful it was. And many an evening, when the stars wheeled and circled in the limpid Tewksbury sky, Tewksbury prayers by the hundred went winging over the Tewksbury chimneys.


MUSIC: UP AND OUT


CITIZEN: Help me, dear Lord, to learn patience, humility, and compassion -- for those who do not live in Tewksbury.


MUSIC: GENTLE ... BEHIND NARRATOR--


NARRATOR: But there was one set of gentry in Tewksbury -- too insignificant to mention since they were neither householders, nor taxpayers, nor hewers of wood -- who sent no prayers of praise winging into their small portion of the sky. And these could be found in the Tewksbury State Hospital, more accurately known then as the Tewksbury poorhouse.


MUSIC: ACCENT ... THEN OUT


CLARA: I only wish my mother had never set eyes on my father.


MUSIC: ACCENT ... THEN BEHIND IN BG--


NARRATOR: Now, to this house of charity came two new guests arriving on a winter afternoon in the big black hack lovingly called the Black Maria. (PRONOUNCED muh-RY-uh) These were hurried at once to have their names recorded in the Tewksbury Book of Charities. The name of the first being--


ANNIE: Annie Sullivan.


NARRATOR: --who was ten years old and "damaged," as a bruised fruit is damaged, or a doll when a child has pulled out an arm or a blue china eye. For, over Annie's young eyes, there lay a gray film, so that, of a man's face, she saw only the circle of his head; none of his features, his nose or his eyes, but only the circle of his head and the blur of his body. Now, the second guest that afternoon was--


JIMMIE: James Sullivan.


NARRATOR: --the girl's brother. And he, too, was damaged -- the child bones in is body aching with an old man's weariness. And their mother was dead and no one had been found who wanted them; not an uncle or an aunt or their own father. And so Annie Sullivan and her brother Jimmie were planted to grow in the Tewksbury poorhouse. And there, they were like twisted vines in a dying garden.


MUSIC: OUT, DURING ABOVE


MAGGIE: (SINGS, FORLORN, IN A STUPOR) Oh, potatoes, they grow small over there. 

Oh, potatoes, they grow small over there. 

Oh, potatoes grow so small 

That they are no good at all. 

Oh, they are no good at all over there.

(CONTINUES TO CROON WORDLESSLY BEHIND CHILDREN--)


JIMMIE: Look at the picture, Annie. Look at the pretty picture.


ANNIE: What's it show, Jimmie?


JIMMIE: A lady with a pink umbrella. She's laughing. (TO DEMONSTRATE, HE EMITS SOME FORCED LAUGHTER) Ha - ha - ha - ha - ha! (BEAT, THEN VERY SERIOUS) She's looks happy about something, all right.


ANNIE: Let me cut her out.


JIMMIE: No. Last time you cut out a picture, you cut off the head.


ANNIE: I didn't see where the head was, Jimmie.


JIMMIE: I'll cut her out. 


ANNIE: We'll paste her up near the picture of the house with the lilac bush. That'll mean she lives there, see?


JIMMIE: Are we living with her, Annie?


ANNIE: She's our aunt and she gives us everything we want.


JIMMIE: She likes us. (UNCERTAIN) Doesn't she, Annie?


MAGGIE: (COMES OUT OF HER STUPOR, KINDLY) Oh! Is that you, Annie?


ANNIE: It's me, Granny Maggie.


JIMMIE: (UNHAPPY, LOW) Don't answer her, Annie. She always wants to know if it's you.


ANNIE: (LOW) She wants somebody to talk to. (UP) It's me and Jimmie, Granny Maggie. We're playing with a picture magazine.


MAGGIE: (CHUCKLES INDULGENTLY) Oh, Jimmie, is that you?


JIMMIE: (FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME) It's me.


MAGGIE: Oh, it's nice to see a family together. (AWKWARDLY) Uh, you know why I'm here, Annie.


JIMMIE: (UNHAPPY, WHISPERS) There she goes again.


ANNIE: (POLITELY) Your son got married and his wife threw you out of the house.


MAGGIE: Yes, she didn't like me. I coughed too much. And a good china plate fell out of my hands and broke. I just wasn't any use around. She didn't get married to take care of a helpless old woman. But I wasn't so helpless, Annie. She wouldn't let me touch her china, but I could have swept up and - and-- Well, she didn't have to put me away with the loonies. I don't do no harm, Annie.


ANNIE: (AGREES, REASSURING) You don't do no harm.


MAGGIE: Well, anyway, my son kissed me goodbye-- (MUMBLES, DRIFTING INTO A STUPOR)


JIMMIE: (IMPATIENT, WHISPERS) Come on, Annie. Let's go paste up the pictures before she starts again.


MAGGIE: (SUDDENLY ALERT AGAIN, QUICKLY) You know, I could have stayed in the attic upstairs. I wouldn't have been no trouble. Tisn't as if I et so much. You see how much I eat, Annie. I don't eat so much.


ANNIE: (AGREES, REASSURING) You don't eat so much.


MAGGIE: No.


JIMMIE: Come on, Annie. Let's play.


MAGGIE: (DRIFTS OFF AGAIN, SINGS) Oh, potatoes, they grow small over there. 


ANNIE: (SLOWLY) I don't feel like playing any more, Jimmie. You play alone. I don't feel like playing any more.


MUSIC: TRANSITION ... THEN IN BG


NARRATOR: What's the matter, Annie? Why don't you want to play any more? What did you just see? What did you just hear that has blotted out the daydream of the house with the lilac bush?


ANNIE: (TO HERSELF) I think I'll go talk to Clara.


NARRATOR: Why do you want to talk to Clara, Annie? What are you looking for? What are you listening for? What do you want to be told, Annie? What can Clara tell you?


CLARA: (SAVAGELY) I hope he dies! I HOPE HE DIES! I HOPE YOU DIE, YOU HEAR ME, YOU LIAR?! YOU LIAR, WHEREVER YOU ARE, I HOPE YOU DIE!


MUSIC: AN ACCENT ... THEN IN BG


NARRATOR: You shouldn't have gone to her today, Annie. This is one of Clara's bad days again. This is the day for her to remember wrongs forgotten, confidence betrayed, young days gone forever. This is her day to curse -- to curse and mourn.


MUSIC: FADES OUT DURING ABOVE, REPLACED BY--


MAGGIE: (SINGS HER POTATO SONG; CONTINUES BRIEFLY IN BG)


NARRATOR: Who will talk to you, Annie? Isn't there anyone at all who will talk to you?


JIMMIE: Do you want to play mumblety-peg, Annie?


NARRATOR: Jimmie will talk to you, Annie. Jimmie loves you. Jimmie's past is your past. He remembers what you remember -- the warm times, the good times. The times you had a mother.


ANNIE: Let's play remembering, Jimmie.


JIMMIE: All right. I remember--


ANNIE: Let's remember about mama.


JIMMIE: All right. I remember mama combed my hair.


ANNIE: I remember mama drinking tea.


JIMMIE: I remember mama tying my shoes.


ANNIE: (IMITATES MAMA, WITH DIGNITY) "Bones, children. Bones, children."


JIMMIE: I don't remember that.


ANNIE: Oh, Jimmie, you do! Don't you remember mama saying, "Bones, children"?


JIMMIE: (BEAT) I don't remember.


ANNIE: (ANXIOUS) But you do! You do, Jimmie! Mama was at the table. We were eating soup. Mama said, "There's little bones in the soup, children. Little teensy bones." (IMITATES MAMA) "Bones, children. Bones, children." (UPSET) Oh, Jimmie, remember!


JIMMIE: (BEAT) I remember.


MUSIC: TRANSITION ... THEN IN BG


NARRATOR: The world's all warm and good again, isn't it, Annie? Jimmie remembers and you're not alone. You're not like Clara, not like Granny Maggie; you have a brother, you have a friend. Morning and evening, you have a friend. 


ANNIE: Good night, Jimmie.


NARRATOR: The world's all good again. But someone should have warned you. Someone should have told you. Granny Maggie, your dying mother, Clara with the wounded heart -- they should have warned you that the life of man is more fragile than the autumn leaf, shorter than the flickering match, quicker than the blaze of daylight between two dark tunnels.


MUSIC: UP AND OUT


MAGGIE: He - he was took in the night, Annie.


NARRATOR: What is she saying, Annie?


MAGGIE: They took him out -- about four in the morning it was. I heard him call out something, Annie. I don't think it was your name, though. 


NARRATOR: Why do you stand there staring at her, Annie? Can't you understand what she's saying?


MAGGIE: They took him into the little dead house, Annie. He's better off. Annie, I'm telling you, he's better off.


NARRATOR: She's telling you, Annie, he's better off. Can't you understand? Can't you understand, Annie?


SOUND: ANNIE GRABS THE LOCKED DEAD HOUSE DOOR AND RATTLES IT MIGHTILY


ANNIE: (HORRIFIED, TEARFUL) Jimmie! Jimmie! Jimmie!


WATCHMAN: (APPROACHES) No, no, Annie. It won't do any good, Annie. He's better off, better off.


ANNIE: Jimmie, Jimmie! Let me into him, mister! Please let me into him. (WEEPS LOUDLY)


WATCHMAN: You'll have to control yourself, Annie. There's nothin' nobody can do any more.


ANNIE: (SCREECHING) Jimmie, Jimmie! 


WATCHMAN: You're disturbing the other patients, Annie.


ANNIE: Please let me see him! Please let me see him!


WATCHMAN: You can't go in to see him this way, Annie. You've got to get dressed proper first. I'll let you in to see him if you get dressed first. 


NARRATOR: Hurry, Annie. Hurry and get dressed. Granny Maggie will help you.


MAGGIE: The other arm now, Annie.


NARRATOR: Clara will lace your shoes.


CLARA: Don't shake so, Annie.


NARRATOR: They've dressed you in your calico dress. They've laced the shoes around your feet.


WATCHMAN: You didn't wash your face, Annie. Look at you. Go back and wash your face and hands. (SLIGHTLY OFF) And comb your hair!


NARRATOR: And comb your hair -- for the last goodbye, for the final look at your brother, your friend.


WATCHMAN: If I let you in, Annie, will you promise you'll behave yourself?


ANNIE: (QUIETLY) I'll behave myself.


WATCHMAN: You'll be good?


ANNIE: I'll be good.


NARRATOR: They've taken your hand. They've opened the door. They're seating you in a chair beside a bed. They're lifting the sheet from his little round face.


ANNIE: (NO TEARS, BUT OVERCOME, LOW) Jimmie, Jimmie, Jimmie--


NARRATOR: Your arms are around him now. You're kissing, kissing, kissing the dear little face, the dearest in the world -- the only one in all the world you ever loved.


WATCHMAN: Come away now, Annie. You can see him again after breakfast.


NARRATOR: And you're torn away. You're led away, Annie. And all the world grows faint around you. Your feet stumble, your hands are limp. And then a voice. A voice to tell you, it's only a dream. It isn't true, it's only a dream.


WATCHMAN: (SLOWLY) You can go into the yard today, Annie, if you want to pick some lilacs, for your brother's grave.


MUSIC: TRANSITION ... THEN IN BG


NARRATOR: Now you're one of them, Annie -- the lost, the unwanted, the cast-aside. Now the poorhouse walls are a prison. Now night is a torment and day unending. Now you wander with the others from ward to ward; you shuffle with the others from room to room. You lurk around the windows, you stand lost before the doors. 


SOUND: ANNIE POUNDS DESPERATELY ON A WALL


ANNIE: (MUFFLED) Let me out! Let me out! Open the door! Let me out! Let me out!


NARRATOR: (OVERLAPS WITH ABOVE) And you bang your fists upon the walls. You're trapped. You're trapped.


MUSIC: UP, FOR AN ACCENT ... THEN FADES OUT BEHIND--


TILLY: (LAUGHS DEMENTEDLY)


ANNIE: (EXASPERATED) Come on, Tilly. You said you'd read to me today. Come on, here's the book.


TILLY: (STOPS LAUGHING, BEAT, TEASING) Tell me.


ANNIE: I already told you, Tilly. You promised you'd read to me after I told you, and I told you. Now, come on, page three hundred and seventy-five.


TILLY: Tell me, Annie.


ANNIE: (SIGHS) All right. But this is the last time, and then you read to me. [I don't know why I] bother with you -- always breaking your promises and all. If it wasn't that you're the only one who can read-- If I could see, I'd learn to read myself. See if I wouldn't!


TILLY: Tell me, Annie.


ANNIE: (FOR THE ZILLIONTH TIME) We'll escape in the middle of the night. We'll go in the kitchen and get us a knife--


TILLY: A large butcher knife.


ANNIE: A large butcher knife. And we'll hide it in our clothing, just in case. And then we'll wait. We'll wait until a dark night comes and the moon is covered over with a cloud and there's no stars in the sky--


TILLY: And everybody will be fast asleep.


ANNIE: Everybody will be fast asleep. And we'll sneak up to the door, and the watchman will be sleeping--


TILLY: (PLEASED) Tim the watchman will be sleeping.


ANNIE: And we'll steal the keys from off'n his belt and unlock the door and get away. Now, we planned our escape; now you have to read to me; page three hundred and seventy-five!


TILLY: Three seventy-five. Page one. (FLIPS A PAGE) Page two. (FLIPS A PAGE) Page three. (FLIPS A PAGE) Page four--


ANNIE: (DEEPLY FRUSTRATED) You're not going to count them one at a time, Tilly. Read the numbers. Tilly, please!


TILLY: I think I'll go and pack my handkerchief.


ANNIE: There's lots of time to pack your handkerchief, Tilly. You said you'd read if I helped you escape. Now, come on.


TILLY: I can't.


ANNIE: Why can't you?


TILLY: Because I've got to go and pack my handkerchief.


MUSIC: TRANSITION ... THEN OUT BEHIND--


NARRATOR: You're trapped, Annie, and you want to get away. But not with a knife, like crazy Tilly. Not through death, like Granny Maggie. The trap is bigger than the poorhouse. But not too big for life.


ANNIE: I want to go to school.


CLARA: School, school -- lately, all you been talkin' about is school. What do you learn at school you don't know now?


ANNIE: I want to learn to read.


TILLY: (GIGGLES) You can't learn to read, Annie. You can't see.


ANNIE: I want to go to school.


MAGGIE: There's nothing willed on earth that is not willed in heaven. Our life is the Lord's -- and death.


ANNIE: I'm going to go to school. I'm going to learn to read.


MUSIC: TRANSITION ... THEN BEHIND NARRATOR--


NARRATOR: The mother bird teaches her young to fly. The cow leads the calf to the grass in the pasture. But who teaches you, Annie? Who leads you?


CLARA: (WITH CONTEMPT) There they are, Annie -- the investigators. Now's your chance.


ANNIE: What are they investigating?


CLARA: It don't matter. They're always investigating poorhouses. Don't make any difference. I'm telling you, if you want to get out of here-- Name is Sanborn.


ANNIE: I can't see which is Mr. Sanborn.


CLARA: It don't matter. Just go up to him and say, "Mr. Sanborn? Mr. Sanborn--"


ANNIE: (SUDDENLY BOLD) Mr. Sanborn! Mr. Sanborn! Mr. Sanborn, I wanna go to school! (INHALES)


SANBORN: (BEAT, EVENLY) What is the matter with you?


ANNIE: I can't see.


SANBORN: How long have you been here?


ANNIE: (BEAT) I don't know.


MUSIC: ACCENT ... THEN IN BG


NARRATOR: Five years, Annie. You've been here five years. And now you've broken free; you've made your escape. The Black Maria is waiting to take you away from here. Now say goodbye to those who remain.


CLARA: Be a good girl. Mind your teachers, Annie.


ANNIE: I will, Clara.


MAGGIE: Don't tell anyone you came from the poorhouse.


ANNIE: I won't, Maggie.


CLARA: Never mind the poorhouse. Never mind the poorhouse. You keep your head up. You're as good as any of 'em!


ANNIE: All right, Clara.


TILLY: Write me a letter when you learn how.


ANNIE: I will, Tilly.


TILLY: And I'll read it to you.


CLARA: Bye, Annie. (AS THE BLACK MARIA PULLS AWAY, LOUDER) Bye! Send me some tobacco if you can get hold of it!


MUSIC: UP AND OUT


NARRATOR: Who taught you, Annie Sullivan? Who guided you toward light, out of darkness? Who sharpened your appetite for foods you never tasted? Who gave you the thirst that only learning could quench?


TEACHER: Three times three?


ANNIE: Nine.


TEACHER: Three times four?


ANNIE: Twelve.


MUSIC: WARM ... IN BG


TEACHER: Now, do you think you could try it, Annie? Do you think you'd like to try the Bible in Braille yourself?


ANNIE: I would like to try. (READS, SLOW AND AWKWARD AT FIRST, BUT INCREASINGLY FAST AND SMOOTH) "The - voice - of - the - Lord - is - upon - the - waters. The - God - of - glory - thundereth, - even - the - Lord - upon - many - waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful. The voice of the Lord is full of majesty."


MUSIC: UP, TRIUMPHANTLY ... THEN OUT


NARRATOR: What more is there, Annie? You can read and write. You can figure numbers and speak without stumbling. The flight over, the time come to rest. What more, Annie? 


ANNIE: I want to see with my eyes.


MUSIC: IN BG--


NARRATOR: "The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul. The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart. The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes."


ANNIE: I want to see.


NARRATOR: She has walked into the darkness, she has parted the curtains of fear, she has crossed the threshold of pain. She is journeying in uncertainty. She is looking for the light. 


MUSIC: UP AND OUT


NARRATOR: Now the moment has come when the surgeons have done what man can do -- the cutting with the knife; the lengthening, shortening, changing and repairing; the wrapping and unwrapping. Now the moment has come. And Annie Sullivan stands poised on the trembling edge of blindness. (BEAT) Open your eyes, Annie.


ANNIE: (BEAT; AT FIRST, WE CAN'T TELL IF SHE'S LAUGHING OR CRYING)


NARRATOR: What do you see?


ANNIE: (HER TITTERING BUILDS AND BUILDS BEHIND--)


NARRATOR: You see a room. You see a table in the corner of the room. You see a window. The sky through the open window. But everyone sees a room, a table, a window. Is there a window beyond the window that we don't see? 


ANNIE: (BY NOW, SHE'S COMPLETELY HYSTERICAL)


NARRATOR: What do you see, Annie, that makes you laugh with joy?


ANNIE: (SHE LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND LAUGHS)


MUSIC: UP, FOR A BIG ACCENT ... THEN IN BG--


NARRATOR: Now let us celebrate the darkness and the light that came out of the darkness. Let us praise the day with the singing of our eyes. Let us revel in the green of the leaf, delight in the flight of the birds through the sky. Let us glory and rejoice and feast on our happiness and be content.


ANNIE: I want to teach the blind.


MUSIC: UP, FOR A SMALL ACCENT ... THEN IN BG--


NARRATOR: Now, how was man fashioned with restlessness, that in the midst of his feasting, he should be hungry? How is his soul tormented with ambition, that the grapes of contentment sour on his tongue? How is he prodded with desire, that dulls the relish of his senses? Have you not been locked in, Annie Sullivan? Have you not torn free? And should you not rest?


ANNIE: (INSISTS) I will teach the blind.


NARRATOR: Have you not wept and been afraid? Have you not been blind and, in your ignorance, deaf and dumb? Has not the time come to rejoice and to rest, to relish the sight of the earth and the sky, and rejoice?


ANNIE: The deaf and the dumb and the blind -- I will bring them sound and speech and I will make them see. This I will do.


MUSIC: UP, FOR A SMALL ACCENT ... THEN IN BG--


NARRATOR: And Annie Sullivan went to where a child was suffering. And this child was deaf and she was dumb and she was blind. And this child suffered with the anguish of something buried alive.


HELEN: (BLOODCURDLING SCREAMS AND WEEPING; CONTINUES IN BG)


NARRATOR: She wept and she raged and she had no words to say what hurt her. And she could not hear the comfort of others, of her father or her mother. And she had no eyes to see their signs. And she was alone. And she raged like - like something buried alive. She mourned and she raged. And Annie Sullivan came to where the child suffered. She sought out the child in the darkness and, with her hands upon her, she led her out into the light.


HELEN: (CALMS DOWN AND GROWS QUIET)


NARRATOR: With her hands upon the child's, she spelled speech to her. And she taught her that there were words. And she used the words to teach her that there were sounds and sights. And to the child, Annie Sullivan brought the world she had found for herself. And then Annie Sullivan rested and rejoiced. For is not the child a woman now? And does she not praise the day with the singing of her eyes, and delight in the green of the leaf? Was not her raging stilled with words? Did not sounds enter the grave of her deafness? Were not sights brought to her who could not see? Did not Annie Sullivan create a world for her who had no world?


MUSIC: UP, FOR CURTAIN 


ANNOUNCER: We take pleasure in presenting Mr. Jacob Davis, prominent civic and Jewish community leader and member of the Board of Overseers of the Jewish Theological Seminary, speaking from Pittsburgh. Mr. Davis.


DAVIS: You have just heard the story of Anne Sullivan. Who was Anne Sullivan? Who, also, was the seven-year-old child -- deaf, dumb, and blind -- who "suffered with the anguish of something buried alive"? The child was Helen Keller, and Anne Sullivan was her teacher. 


Why should we be interested in Anne Sullivan, an almost blind orphan from the poorhouse in Tewksbury? In our time, we have seen eighty thousand human beings killed in the flash of one uranium bomb. Can we still be concerned about the life of a single bruised and rejected child?


It is not Anne's spindly legs, her half-blind eyes that interest us. She commands our attention because she willed to see and labored to learn. Then, marvelously, she struggled to teach Helen, a girl more desperately hurt, more woebegone even than she. 


Hers might be the story of any individual who has repudiated handicaps. With few changes, hers might be the story of Abraham Lincoln, born in a shack in the distant hills, who was stopped by no obstacles and who rose to be the most beloved and perhaps the greatest of all Americans.


Hers might be the story of a small people in Palestine. Children murdered, sisters outraged, parents exterminated by the unspeakable Nazis, they nevertheless willed to be free men and to extend the blessing of freedom to their rejected and homeless brothers.


Hers, in short, is the story of the greatness of the human soul. We -- who are blessed with sound limbs and clear eyes, who were not transported in a Black Maria, nor reared in the poorhouse at Tewksbury-- Might we not remember Anne -- her head unbowed, her spirit undismayed -- and with her recite the psalmist's praise, "I shall not die, but live to declare the glory of the Lord"?


ANNOUNCER: Thank you, Mr. Davis. 


MUSIC: FILLS A PAUSE ... THEN IN BG


ANNOUNCER: If you would like a free copy of today's script, please send your name and address, with ten cents to cover the cost of postage and handling, to The Eternal Light, Thirty Eighty Broadway, New York, Twenty-Seven, New York.


Our Eternal Light drama today, "The Light in Darkness," was written by Sylvia Berger. The music was composed by Morris Mamorsky and conducted by Milton Katims. Cantor Robert H. Segal sang the liturgical introduction. Joan Lazer was featured as Annie and the Narrator was Alexander Scourby. The entire production was under the direction of Frank Papp.


Free time to present "The Eternal Light" is made available by the National Broadcasting Company and its affiliated independent stations. This weekly program is presented under the auspices of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America.


This is NBC, the National Broadcasting Company.


MUSIC: NBC CHIMES


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