IRLF STORY OF A BEI o CM .toga, Cal. June, 1885. t the solicitation of many Mends I e published a small collection of my poems under the title of "THE STORY OF A BELL, AND OTHER POEMS." Price by mail neatly bound in cloth, 50cts. In attractive paper covers, 25cts. Paper money may be sent by mail at my risk. When not convenient to procure bank bills, Draft or Post Office orders, postage stamps may be sent. Having timidly launched my little bark so late in the day I hope my friends may lend a hand for a prosperous v oyage. Address, G. W. MC Grew, Saratoga Santa Clara Co., California. STORY OF A BELL OTHER POEMS -BY G. W. McGRRW, SARATOGA, CAL. SAX .JO.SK, CAL,: TIMKS-.MKKCTKY STKAM BOOK ANT> JOB PRINT. 1885. PAGE. THE STORY OF A BELL, PART I 3 THE STORY OF A BELL, PART II 6 THE STORY OF A BEL.L,, PART III 12 DEDICATORY HYMN 17 t,OS G-ATOS , , 19 THIRTY-FIFTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 33 TWILIGHT MUSING 2tf OOING- BLIND 2$ OUR OLD OAK TREE 30 THE AUTUMN TIME HAS COME 34 TO MY WIFE 37 SET ASIDE 38 THREE SCORE AND TEN 41 ON THE BANKS OF BOULDER 43 LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY S ALBUM 44 MY SISTER S GRAVE 46 PARTING WORDS... 48 461 OF THE UNIVERSITY dltc Ktotij of a Bci l PART I.? tlTTINCI at my chamber window, Basking in the sunbeams bright, * Comew there through the open easement, On the south wind soft and light. Mellow notes of distant music, As the zephyrs rise and swell, And my heart throbs as I listen To the music of mv bell. Would you know why thus I call it? Why to me it is so dear V Well, just take a seat beside me. And my story you shall hear. On the porch, if you prefer it, And will help to move my chair; There we ll get God s blessed sunshine, And the fresh, sweet morning air. But you must have stores of patience, For my story may bs long, For, you see, I m old and feeble, And my brain no longer strong. And, besides, it ma} be simple. With but little thought or care- Childish as a nursery story, Or an infant s evening prayer. Written in March, 1SX\ THE .STOAT OF A BELL. When tlie sands of life grow scanty , And the stream flows weak and low, And the heart again grows childish Neath the almond s wintry blo^fe We may ask and claim some freedom From exacting rules of life, Or, at least, may make such pretest, To escape the, critic s knife. Wo were living then at Larkhind > When ? About four years ago That:lies northward from LQH Galon, Just about it mile or w<>. There we built a modest cottage, Hoping yet to make a home; But, nlas, the same old story (rot a mortgage for a dome. How we tjiled, and prayed, and struggled In suspense twixt hope and fear, Might form subject fora chapter, But can have no presence here. One day, feeling rather lonesome, I set out to rind a man, Said to be a fellow churchman- All the one in all that land. For our neighbors then were strangers, In the region where we dwelt. For the climate was so lovely THE STORY OF A HELL. It was called the great warm belt It drew many from the cities Down about the Golden (late, Vnd the weary health-home seekers From each chilly Northern State. Found my man out in the garden, Busy with his hoe and rake. When I told him all my errand, Smiling, said, "There s some mistake: I m a Baptist, said he, leaning On the handle of his hoe. "If you re hunting Presbyterians I can tell you where to go. v Well he told me, and I found them At their cottage on the hill, Loyal, loving, ^Christian people Would that they were with us still; Hut like pilgrims on a journey, We can tarry but a night- Meet to love, then part assunder Till the dawn of heavenly light. Other kindred hearts were added, And the little circle grew, No one knowing as they gathered Why their love grew strong and true. From this tiny seed of mustard, TJIE XTORY Or A HKLL. Scarce observed by human eyes, Nurtured by the clews of heaven, Lo! we see a church arise. Not without consideration, And much thoughtful, anxious care, Lest some hasty step be taken, Hut with fervent, earnest prayer That the King who reigns in Zion, Far above all human sight, Would enlighten by His spirit And direct our steps aright. PART II,* WAS a little band of pilgrims, Whose hearts the Lord impressed With a wish to walk together To the country of the blest. Some lived upon the mountain side. Some down upon. the plain. And some in the prettj- village Midwa} between the twain. Hut their hearts were drawn together With cords of love divine, Just as the Master promised when He left the world behind. THE 8TORY OF .1 So they loved to talk together, As they journeyed on the way, Of the glorious heavenly prospects That just before them lay. Hut, like sheep without a shepherd, Ov like lambs without a fold. This little band of pilgrims Were scattered in the cold. For this world of sin and sorrow, Though like an Eden dressed, Is not the land of Canaan, Where weary pilgrims rest. So they prayed to have a shepherd. To lead them on the way, By the quiet crystal waters, Where greenest pastures lay. And a fold enclosed securely, Where weary feet might rest, And a place for sweet communion With friends thev loved the best, Now just how this prayer was answered I ll tell, if you would know, For it happened in Los Gatos, About three years ago. First of all, to drop the figure, These were men, like you and me, THE STORY OF A BELL. And it was a church they wanted, Not a fold, as you shall seo. And a preacher for a shepherd Though I like that name the best Bat no difference, so he leads us In the footsteps of the blessed. So, one day, when met together, * In a rather spacious hall, Though they did not try to fill it Just one corner, that was all When the call was made for members, Twenty-three rose to their feet. So the little church was started Small, but organized complete. Not so briefly as I ve told you Were the service* that day, Hut the form was short and simple, So I heard some people say. Now, while they re waiting in the hall, With half an answered prayer, Just come with me, on Fancy s wing, Up through the Eastern air. We pause not in our magic flight, Almost from sea to sea, Till stern New England s sternest State Is reached by you and me. Tho Church was orj^ini/p 1 hv lU v.J. .M. N<>\vol 1, July .,, 1SSI. THE STORY OF A BELL. On bold Mount Mansfield s rocky crest, We pause awhile to scan The glory of Green Mountain scenes Spread out on every hand. Huge fir-clad hills, rock-ribbed and wild, Whose every clifted gleu Reveals some glimpse of mountain homes - Fit homes for stalwart men. Hills sloping downward to the vale, With many a leafy dell, Whose hidden springs, cool babbling brooks Their hiding places tell. Green pasture lands, small, well-kept farms, Bright thrift on every side; The church, the school, the busy mill, New England s boast and pride. From out such scenes one sweet June day. There came a wedded pair; I know not how it came about, Noi need you know or care. He, the young preacher, just from school, With proof enough at hand, And she, the maiden of his choice So let that matter stand. I do not like to say farewell To home and kindred dear; We ll skip the parting, you and I, 10 THE toTORY 01 .1 JIKLL. Without one single tear. When Heated in the flying train, The preacher and his bride, Methinks I almost hear him say, " Now for that promised ride." That day, for which they toiled and prayed. Through yeirs of hope deferred, Had dawned at last upon the earth, And all their prayers were heard. With strong young hearts of faith and love, Inspired to burning zeal, They blessed the speed that winged them on To their far western field. Like one of old who left his home And kin nt God s command, They knew not where their lot might be In that broad western land; But He who calls a willing heart. And fills it with His grace, And qualifies for special work. Will help to find the place. .;- * T was HS/" 110 accident or chance, As we sat waiting there, A stranger came, 1 and by his side A youthful lady fair. * Rev. K. ( . Moodie supplied the pulpit from the day the rlmreh \va.so: aimed. He was ordained and installed Nov. X, 1881. We knew not then, nor did they know, As Ave both know to-day, Their coining answered all our prayer, How glad! Thev came to stay. Since that, to us, eventful day, Three years have passed in peace; The Lord has crowned our feeble work "With eomforting^inerease. The little band of twenty-three, We count by scores to-day; Three score and ten are on the roll, And some have moved away. One precious name AVC cherish still, Though it is claimed above; Death can not break the golden chain, The bond of Christian IOA T C. t Like some sweet flower, plucked at noon. And carried to the skies, We miss the form, but in our hearts The fragrance never die-;. With grateful hearts we look to-day Back to our infant days, "When Ave were few, and weak and poor, And little knew the ways A church could rise from such small means t Mrs. W. \V. Dull dietl June 28, lx:}. THE 8TOHY OF A SELL. And all its wants be fed; But we had faith in barley loaves When Jesus breaks the bread. The pioneer must build a tent A chapel it may be While Hiram gets the cedars out And brings them by the sea. A house to serve the future years, Costs i .mG as well as gold- It took the wise man seven years To build his house, we re told. Our little chapel we ve outgrown; It served our purpose well. Now friends if you will build the church, I ll try to raise the bell, Whose every note may be a call To him who came to save, When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave." PART III,- - LL the long bright days of summer My poor bark was ill at ease; Like the ebb and flow of ocean, I had wrestled with disease. "Written in March, lxsr>. THE STORY OF A J1ELL. Sometimes out among the sunbeams, Tasting sweetness in the air; Sometimes plunged beneath the shado With no comfort anywhere. AVhen the summer days grew shorter Autumn came with sober mien, With its wealth of golden sunshine, Ripening fruit and waving grain; "But to me it brought no healing, As I drooped from place to place, Seeking strength, but finding weaknes While worse symptom* grew apaeo, All tlit st 1 day* of cloud und sunshine On my heart it burden lay, Sometimes light and sometimes heavy, With the light and shadows play. In my zeal to aid my brethren, And the sacred cause as well, I had made a hasty promise That I d try to raise a bell. Was it rashness or presumption Prompting this bold word to speak, Since I knew my purse was empty, And, perhaps, my credit weak. Yet, somehow, this new dilemma Brought more happiness than pain, Till-: HTt)RY OF A HELL. S > I set myself to planning How to make all right again. T was now a weary prisoner In my chamber neat aiul bright. Two large windows to the southward For the noontide s sun and light. One looked eastward to the rising, One toward the setting snn, And what loving hearts could bring me Was, I knew, most gladly done. Sometimes, when the snn was brightest, And iny brain was brightest too. With my paper in the sunshine I could sit to write a few Crooked lines I called my letters To my friend* both east and west, Telling all about my interest In the church I loved the best. Oh, the charm of human friendship, Christian sympathy and love; How it lightens all our burdens With a joy like that above. Struggling through my pain and blindness, Bungling work I made that way, lint kind answers came bsguiling Many a long and weary day. THE NTOKY OF A KELL. Still, to aid me in my effort, I enclosed a simple rhyme I had written for our people At their last good annual timo. Though the hand was weak and trembling, And the harp unstrung and wrong, Some sweet chord brought quick responses To the burden of my song. Northward, far as Walla Walla, Came the messages of love; Southward, from the "Angel city," Nestled in her orange grove; Eastward, from the broad Atlantic, From the rugged coast of Maine From the mountains and the valleys, And the cities of the plain. Far across the broad Pacitic, Far beyond the tropic s land, From another Mount of Olives, Looking o er New Zealand s strand ; From a home near Auckland City, Looking out upon the sea, Came a letter richly freighted With good words of cheer for me. Not kinds words alone, but money, Proving sympathy rincere OF THE UNIVERSITY THE KTORY OF A BELL Timely aid in my dilemma, How to Ijeep my conscience clear. IteUs are bells, and cost much money Where to find it who could tell ? Did you over hear such story How a poor man raised a "bell ? Now the pretty foothill beauty Adds a jewel to her crown "(Ipward points another Bteeple, Calling Heaven s blessings down; well poised up in the belfry Hangs my we3t4oiigued Blymycv Ml, 5Juy it hang and ring for ages, No uncertain smtnd to trll, Now the pleasant task is finished, Now the burden s laid aside Thanks to Thee, O, God, the Giver, For the strength Thy grace supplied. May Thy blessing rest upon it, And on all who placed it there; And on all who hear and heed it While it calls to praise and prayer. A TOR } Bediccil onj if i] inn, TUNE Axmon.* LMIGHTY God, each heart inspire With gratitude and love, That all our songs of praise this day May be like those above. We come with grateful hearts to briny A tribute tj Thy shrine, Though all we have to give or keep Most sacredly is Thine. The trees grew on the mountain slopes Fanned by the western sea; And all the goodness of the house We gladly trace to Thee. Though Heaven itself cannot contain Thy glory and Thy grace, In wondrous condescension make This house Thy dwelling place. It is the gift of many hearts. The work of many hands; It is the child of many prayers. Accept it as it stands. .Sunj, r at the- dedication of the church, May :;, 1SS5. I) FA) 1C A TOR 1 II Y MX. Here let Thy name recorded be, And when Thy children meet To worship in this sacred place, () make Thy presence sweet! When here Thy servant stands between . The living and the dead; Clothe Thine own word with power divine, That all Thy saints be fed: That from these courts a stream may fl nv, To gladden all the land, And many weary wandering feet, Be turned to Thv ri.^ht hand. LOS (1ATO&. 1ft f HERE S a cosy little village, " : , Half hidden in the woods, * Where the murmuring Los Gratos, Pours down its crystal floods Through the wild and rocky canyon That cleaves the mountain high, That bounds the^iYdrest valley Beneath our western sky. This lovely little village Hath charms beyond compare, Of wild, romantic beauty, And cultured gardens fair; For herethe wooded mountains, The valley orchards meet, And the oak trees and the orange Shake hands across the street. There s an air of careless beauty, That runs through all the town; The streets go rambling where they please, With sidewalks up and down ; Some homes have found a level spot, To put on city airs, Written in June, 1,-tfl. 20 LO8 GATOS, While others peep from shady Above a flight uf stairs. There are viewo of matchless beauty. From every cottage flpoi<; The mountains! 0, the mountains! And the valley s painted floor, Bedecked Svith homes and hamlets, ?^s It northward fades away, Till its wheat fields, groves and gardens,, KJSH the waters of the bay. Far up across the canyon, O er ihc summit bold and high, There s a fringe of noble redwoods, Against the western sky; While far eastward . o er the valley t Mount Hamilton is seen, With the Garden City nestling In the lovely vale between. But for scenes of rarest beauty, You need not look away To the distantu hain of mountains That circles half the bay; Nor yet to the lofty summit That overlooks the sea, That casts its evening^hadow Across our little lea. LOH GATO& Nor yet to the quiet valley That lies beneath your i eet, "With its fruitful groves and gardens, And fields of golden wheat; There are gems of rural beauty Just round about the town, So pretty, that you think each one The loveliest you have found. You see them as you walk the street, You see them from the hill, You see them as you cross the bridge Above the old stone mill You see them morning, noon, and ev.v In every changing light, But oh ! how picturesquely ! When luna crowns the night. But this modest little village By the babbling water s brink, Is not so dull and idle As a passer-by might think; There s quite a stir of business In the narrow, crooked street, Where the traffic of the mountains And the valley traders meet. Huge loads of wood and lumber Come lumbering down the grade; While the flying train goes flashing 22 JvO.V (, ATOX. Through the sunshine and the shade; A hum of wheels in motion Comes up from the old stone mill. All hoary with age and flour, As it grinds and grinds on still. That burst of merry voices That rings out on the breeze, Comes out from the village school-house. Hid somewhere mong the trees; Six days the anvil chorus Kings out upon the air, On Sabbath morn one single bell Calls sweetly out to prayer. Of all religions it is said, (I mention what I read) The altar aiid the temple both, Do shadow forth the creed; But tho people of this village, (To lay aside all jokes,) Are not a set of Druids, Though they worship under oaks. O, lovely, rustic beauty! With all thy simple ways, Let not the tyrant Fashion Cut short thy happy days; Preserve with stern devotion The beauty God has given; Twill help to sweeten earthly toil And point the road to Heaven. THIRTY-FIFTH WKDDINU (E fi i t \\ ] -f iftTi H)e99i nc) H i n u oc EAli wife, tis five and thirty years Since \on and I were wed; It seems not half so long to me, Time has so lightly sped. Though all our way has not been smooth, Our day not always bright, Yet (rod lias tinged our darkest clouds "With His own loving light. Most of the friends that round us stood That lovely April day To hear our vows and wish us joy From earth have passed away. But nearer still Death s shadows came, As we passed down the years Four little graves, laid far apart, Have witness borne of tears. One after one our cherished plans Of home and plenty crowned Have met misfortune s blighting touch And fallen to the ground. And yet, somehow, we ve got along, Despite our useless fears, 24 THIRTY-FIFJ H WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. For God has led us side by side These five and thirty years. What though we ve had some stormy days Our hearts are happy still, For surely in the checkered past We ve had more good than ill. So, not one mournful chord I ll touch To mar our joy to-day, For light, you know, is doubly sweet As darkness rolls away. While struggling through life s toilsome way, It oft has grieved rny heart That one endowed with gifts so rare Should share so dull a part; Hut genius ne er can be suppressed, Though humble be thy lot; Such taste as thine can almost make A palace of a cot. Thus, while we ve drifted, here and there. With fortunes good or bad, Twas thine to cheer the way and make The best of what we had; And well, my dear, thou st done thy part In every trying day, With patience, love, and taste combined, To smooth life s rugged wav. THIRTY-FIFTH WEDDING A NXIVER8ARY. To bear ea?h other s griefs and cares Has made Our burdens light; To share each others happiness Has made our joys more bright. Not all the sweetest flowers of earth Are born of cloudless skies; Full many a gem of clouded birth Shall bloom in paradise. . The sw r eetest lesson we have learned, And yet are learning still, Is just to leave it all with God, And have no other will; Accept the mission of our lives. Our prayer, as it is sent, " (Jive us this day our daily bread," And therewith be content. But Time, my dear, is on the wing, Nor would we stay his flight; The shades of time will soon be lost In God s eternal light; Then, as we stand before His face, O, will it not seem good, To hear the Master say, again, " She hath done what she could." 2ii TWILHjHT toil of the day was ended, And I turned for a little rest, But a feeling of sadness lingered, Like a pall o er my weary breast; The thought that my lot was a hard OIK, Came up, but I turned it aside, While I groped in the dark for the promise That in some way the Lord would provide. With burdens so great and so many, And the strength of a broken reed, I asked, in my anguish of spirit, O. how can a mortal succeed? I knew that to groan was not manly, To distrust, I knew was a sin, Yet still the dark billow came o er me With naught to resist it within. O erwhelmed with a sense of my weakness, I ventured to lift up my eyes, Through the mist that was gathering o er them, To the glorious light of the skies. The sun had passed over the summit, That stands by the western main, TWILIGHT Mi SING. 27 The foothills, all draped in shadows, Stretched out like a veil t ward the plain. The mountains encircling the valley, Enrobed in their purple and blue, Proclaimed as of old the sweet promise, That God to His people is true. k His righteousness like the great mountains, Came down, as it seemed, from the hight Where the last ray of daylight lingers, And the dawning first heralds the light. In silence I gazed at the wonders Displayed by the changing light, As the earth beneath grew darker, And the Heavens above more bright, Till filled by the inspiration, As upward it bore me along, The pall from my heart was lifted, And iny groaning was turned to a song. Los GATOS, Cal., Nov. 5, 1881. 28 GOIXV BLIX1). >|HE world is fading from my sight Slow, but surely away And all that God has made so bright Grows dimmer every day. Not but the fields are just as green, The sky above as bine, The dimness comes to me alone, From the veil I see them through. This veil the trace of pain and years On this poor throbbing brain Shuts out the beauty of the world, Letting its shades remain. The smiles and frowns of friends and foes Are all the same to me I miss their pleasure and their pain Because I cannot see. Thus, blundering on my lonesome way, Though in a crowded street, I scarce can tell my dearest friends From strangers whom I meet. Yet, in the busy fray of life I still must hold a place JiLIXJ), The doom from Eden yet enthrall^ The toilers of our race. Patience, O, weary, troubled heart, The race will soon be run; The shadows gathering o er thy path Foretell a brighter sun. Though all the earth grow-j poor and dark The eye of faith grows bright; God is the portion of thy heart Thine everlasting light, Los GATOP, CnJ., Jan. 1, OUlt OLD OAK TREK. tBitt (M3 IDcifi 3hee. BOUT a thousand years ago, It might be hundreds less, For when we can not know a thing We only have to guess; A tiny acorn rattled down From some old tree that stood. About a thousand years ago, The monarch of this wood. The tiny acorn rattled down As soft the south wind blew, To find a leafy hiding place, From which this old oak grew. But how it grew, or why it grew, So crooked, rough, and low, It has no tongue, and who can tell What happened long ago? While seated neath thy shade, old tree, Upon my rustic chair, The sea breeze rustling through thy leaves Lifting my silvered hair, I ve wondered what thy past could tell, If such a thing might be, OUR OLfr OAK TREK. To weave a sympathetic chord Between myself and tbee. Thy low bent trunk, deep scarred and gnarled. Hears record of the past, Of crushing harm from other trees, Or tempests fearful blast, Scat ring thy beauty to the winds Like leaves before the gale, -Leaving a living monument To tell its own sad tale. Thus robbed of beauty, form and grace, With sprawling head bent low, Thy very worthlessness has saved Thee from the axman s blow. No woodman ever thought thee harm, So thou hast held the field; >sot one straight stick of four-foot wood Thy crooked top would yield. Hnt naught, tis said, was made in vain, I hop;* the doctrine true; Some grains of comfort it might bring To me as well as you, Despoiled of beauty, not of life, A mission thou wast given; Some humble link in that great chain AVhich binds all earth to Heaven, OUR OLD OAK TR /:/:, AVas it with every passing breeze To sound His praise abroad, TO point the sluggish heart of nmn Through nature up to Clod? TO welcome spring with buds and bloom, And summer with her sheaves; To deck the graves of parting years AVith wreaths of russet leaves V To welcome to thy cooling shade, Through all the summer days, The meadow lark, thy constant friend, AVith all his merry lays V To welcome to thy heart of oak, AA r ith gnarly hands outspread, The living things that God has made. To shelter, board and bed ? Twas but last summer, one fair day. A wandering swarm of bees Came swooping down to thy low top, Past groves of finer trees; In thy low, rough, unsightly trunk. To find an open door, AVhere scores of squirrels had raised their broods, Five hundred years before, Ah! yes, old tree, a mission thine, I see it now more clear; A lesson, too, it brings to me, I have been slow to hear That scrubby trees should be content, And faulty men as well, To take what comes, and till their niche, And trv to do it well. LOSGATOB,CAL , Mm-, i/ S4 THE Al Tl MX TIME HAS COME. Bufimm (Eiuie JTa5 Conic, UST merging from the gloomy vale That timid mortals dread Down by the gate that stands between The living and the dead God s sunshine falls upon my heart With new and strange delight, Because the time has been so long Since I enjoyed its light. When last I saw the outside world, And breathed the fragrant air, The fields were dressed in living green, And all the world was fair. Now from my chamber window, where A prisoner I remain, I see the autumn time has come. With all its sober train. The hills and dales have doffed the green For autumn s russet gray, And stubble fields look brown and bare, And dusty as the way The broad highway that leads to town, Traced by the dusty train, Tliat follows every whirling wheel, O er valley, hill and plain. The sturdy oaks that spread their limbs Above the cottige eaves, Mosui sadly as the aut .nuu winds Strip off their withered leaves. The orchard trees look poor and thin, As picking- time goes by, And long-bent limbs rind sweet relief Against the azure sky. The vineyard, too, has been despoiled Of summer s clustered gain; While tangled vines and faded leaves Are all that now remain. The luscious grapes of many hues, That ripened here of late, Have found a pass.ige to the East, Or to the Golden Gate. The little bird that haibd the dawn With carols low and sweet Has left its haunts about the house, A restless band to meet Of kindred birds that soar away, Then back again at night. As if to test their little wings For some extended flight. 77/7-; AUTUMN TIMK HAS COM]-:. O er nil tlie landscape far and near, Up to tli? mountain s crest, A dreamy haze pervades the air. Suggestive of the rent A kindly nature grants to all Within he; 1 b;oad do n tin - A rest, a sleep, a death, a grav^, Till they shall rise agAin. Yes, while 1 at the winduw sir, In weakness and in pain, To see the autumn time lm< come, With all its sober train. Responsive from my heart there CM me.-. A note of sympathy; I, too, urn in tli 3 yellow leaf - Autumn has come to me. I feel it i:i my trembling frame, And in my failing sight, And in my troach rona memory, That fails me as I write. I feel it as I long for rest, Beyond all mortal oare My yearning for s >me unknown good That seeks relief in prayer. Great God of nature and of grace. I would look up to Thee, i\t My win:. I know my times are in Thy hand, And all my destiny . Keep this declining life of mine In Thine Almighty hand, Then I shall triumph over death, And reach the better land. JRmvm.su KANTH, Los Gutos, Cal.. < di e While detained hy busim ss in Cincinnati, in the fall of 1848, I wrote the following lines to my wife on the back of one of my first business card*. I was agreeably surprised to lcain,not long since, that she had carefully preserved this card anutiifr her sacred relics. JAM weary, O, how weary. Of the city s dust and din. Won Id that I could fly and leave it In its folly, noise and sin, For my own loved little cottage For my own bright fireside And the one on earth the dearest Heaven s </ift mv wife, mv bride. 8 \ES, just as well be Kot a:-ide, The world moves Jill thf> same, Suns rise and set, moons w.ix and i Regardless of my name Whether I take nn active part In all beneath the Him, Or fold my hands and step aside And say my work is done. The country, too, goes on as if It might sustain the shock; The ship of state glides smoothly on Without a reef or iwk; The State elections come and go Without my casting voice ; They make and unmake presidents Regardless of my choice. The wjrld of business surges on Along the lines of trade. And stocks go up and storks go do Without my ken or aid. Xo city merchant cares to know My standing at the banks; f UNIVERSITY SET .i,S7 /;/:. . No board of traders, high or low, Now miss me from their ranks. Then in the church my chosen field Of labor and delight, Where once, no doubt, I thought myself A pillar and a light They manage somehow to get on Without my sage advice - Indeed I fear they scarcely miss Me from their councils wise. My place so near the pulpit step, That not a word might slip, To get the blessed gospel news Warm from the pastor s lip, Has been so long by others tilled My claim has passed away; I m glad that in the upper church They go not out for aye. Then in the home, that sacred spot, The last stronghold of life, My ruling star is on the wane I m boarding with my wife. On stormy days I stay within. And lounge about at ease; When warm and tine I court the sun, Or sit beneath the trees. 10 I take 110 hand at work or play, I seldom read or write. I m tired, and I rest all day. Then try to rest at night. Sometimes I ask at evening tide, What have I done to-day ? The answer comes, with some regret I ve passed the time away. Ah, yes! I see I m set aside, I feel it every day, The world, the church, the social ring, The sober and the gay, They pass me by without concern, I m satisfied tis so, Yet with my joy there s some regret That I am letting go. SARATOGA, Cal., March 1, is>i. (HI it co Kcotc cni3 Y three score years and ten. How strange! I note it down with care; I never thought to live so long, Xor was it in my prayer. But God is good and kind and wise, And doeth all things well; But why this life should be so long, I think, but can not tell. If I were well, and strung, and wise, And qualified to stand Among the rulers of the state, Or tillers of the land, Or be a leader in some scheme To benefit the race, I then might better understand Why I should have a place. But this poor, weary, idle life. So near to death akin, Almost as helpless as a child, "Without its charms to win; So long the care of anxious hearts, And overburdened hands, With nau.o-ht to recompense but love, As gratitude demands. But God is good, and kind and wise, And doetli all things well. We may not understand His ways, Nor all His wonders tell, But we may trust Him for His grace, Whose mercies are so great; For they, tis said, do also serve, Who only stand and wait. Some humble mission yet may be, My portion as I wait; The grace of patience it may be, How best to illustrate. In my own life, that all may see, The power of grace divine, To cheer and comfort Avitli the faith, That smiles at life s decline. Great God, possess this truant heart, And mould it to Thy will, That this poor fragment of a life, Be Thine more fully still. If through this vale Thy rod and staff But keep me in the way, There shall be light at evening-time, More perfect than the day. SARATOGA, CAL.. March 2- ), ISSo. OX THE JM.YA V <>F r.Ol J.D I .h . tfie ficmfb of Bcuf3 Boulder City, Colorado, is situated near the mouth of theiamous Boulder Canyon, through which 1J mldor Creek tumbles and. foams down from the snowy rang. to the plains on which the city stands. The road up this canyon from Boulder to the mining town of Caribou, a distance of 22 mil es, is considered one of the wildest and most picturesque In the Rocky Mountains, and on? which no tourist should fail to see. While resting one warm day on some roc-ks under a willow on the feraks of the stream I perpetrated the following impromptu lines: ^tlie "banks of Boulder, A rock to rest my shoulder, I ll sit till I am older. A. minute may "be two; To hear the waters prattle. To hear them roar and rattle, As on they dash in battle, Gainst voeks, in passing through. I d like t:.) stay some longer, If I were young and stronger, Or if my time was longer But I must "bid adieu. I d like to find the fountain , Away up in the mountain. That sends these waters nountin Adown from Caribou. An,?. 18, 1877. WRITTEN IX A L.-WFK ALBUM . ID lit fe n n a HAT is a name? a single word, That word we love most dear! We love ourselves, we love our names., We write them everywhere. Deep rooted in the human heart, Perhaps it is divine The principle which makes us wish To leave our names behind. Like flowers that bloom in early spring-, That bloom but for a day, So we are passing- one by one We live and pass away. As travelers to some distant clime, Far over life s rough sea; We leave our mottoes here behind Those mottoes are, " Remember me/" Tis this that wings the poets flight, O er fancy s field to roam; Tis this that nerves the warrior arms To strike for friends and home. We carve them in the solid rock, We mark them on the ground, It/.XKS WRITTEN J.\ A LADY K ALllUJf. We cut them on the forest tree, We see them all around. And lady, in this book of thine, There s many a cherished name; I know them not, but yet I know Their object was the same. Scattered like jewels through thy book, They these inscriptions gave, That in thy memory they might dwell, No greater boon I crave. 13ut, oh! how vain, how vain the? thought, To cheat Time of hisprty; No monument that we can raise But Time will sweep away. .Fame, wealth, and honor are but sounds, That soon will die away; Rocks, trees, and books, and marble urns, Are creatures of decay. One book alone shall stand secure, When Time has ceased his strife .High in the library of Heaven-- It is, the Book of Life. Oh! lady, may thy name and mine, And all the names recorded here, When this, and all earth s books are lost, In the Lamb s Book of Life appear. Ohio, IS!.;. Y sister s grave, my sister s grave. How lone and still it lie:-} In tlie quiet village churchyard, Beneath the bantling side:*. Exposed to wind and tempest, Without a tree to save, The sunshine and the shower Fall 011 my sister s grave. Ah, well do I remember, Can I forget the scene ? In early spiing we made it, Before the earth was green. We gathered all around it, Our last adieu we gave, And many bitter tears we shed Upon my sister s grave. Through all tha months of summer I ve watched the hallowed spot, And on the Sabbath evening Its sacredness I ve sought, But not with drops of sorrow Its long green grass to lave; MY KINTEJV8 GRAVK. My nearest views of Heaven Were from my sinter s grave. Now the chilly winds of autumn Moan sadly as they sweep Where the quiet dead are resting, Unconscious in their sleep, That early frosts have blighted The covering nature gave; .But spring will come with beauty To deck my sister s grave. The loved one that here lieth, But not in endless sleep, Shall, like the blighted flowers That o er her bosom weep, Arise in heavenly beauty, Through Him who came to save, Tis this that sheds such glory Around my sister s grave. SIUXKY, Ohio, Nov., ]xr>. 48 PARTlXd \\ OR1>H. Patting "Written when incrr;isin; pains seemed to xu << >st dial tile end near. May, ls.~. x|OMK, my wife, sit clone beside me, I would feel thy presence, dear; For who knows what may betide me, AYlien the end is drawing near. I may lose my speech and reason, If the fever r.iges high, And, perhaps, might fail to tell thee What I wish before I die. Thanks t"> Thee, O, Heavenly Father, For these intervals of rest Precious hours of sweet communing "With dear ones I love the best Ere the pitcher at the fountain May in broken fragments lay, Or the silver cord be loosened From the clasp of mortal clay. Years ago, when we were younger, And the world was all untried, How we loved to sit in council Over plans now set aside. PARTING VfO&Dft, 4!) Now we linger close together Nearer yet, each heart to heart Not with plans, but benedictions, Ere the time has come to part. Oh, the parting, who could bear it V But for light beyond the grave- Light that Jesus brought from Heaven, When he came the world to save. Precious hope of sweet reunion With the loved ones here and there, How it gilds our human sorrow With a joy like answered prayer. One by one our friends have parted, Few remain of all we knew In the homes of early childhood, When the world seemed bright and new. But we fondly hope to meet them In the mansions of the blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling And the weary are at rest." Yes, my dear, 1 know you ll miss me, I have been so long thy care; At the hearthstone and the table There will be a vacant chair, And at evening, when you gather Close around the mercy seat, 50 God will know how much you miss me, And will make His presence sweet. Hut I would not have you carry Sorrow with you day by day; (loci is love, and Heaven before you, While the Spirit guides the way. Other dear ones yet are with you, Needing still your cheerful sway; Let the sunshine of your presence Gladden still life s toilsome way. When new trials overtake you, And life s cares press sore and keen. And the world seems sad and lonely, With 110 one on whom to lean, Then look up and lean on Jesus, Who has promised in His Word Many precious, special blessings, For such hearts so deeply stirred. When with me these scenes are ended, Fold my hands upon my breast; Let the Elders be my bearers, Softly to my lowly rest. Jesus sweetened earth and Heaven, And the tomb through which He passed, And the soul that sleeps in Jesus Shall behold His face at last. PA RTING WOR >-V. Let there be no showy pageant In consigning dust to dust; Let my casket be the plainest All alike will fade and rust. I would have no costly marble Tell the world that I was dead, While the dear ones left behind me Toiled in pain for daily bread. In your heart you still may cherish All that s worthy of its trust, But my failings let them perish With the part beneath the dust. At the morning of the rising, Soul and body to unite, Not one trace of sin or weakness Then shall mar the vision bright. One sweet thought I bid you cherish In fond memory s sacred shrine, I could never fail to treasure All thy worth to me and mine. All along life s checkered pathway Thou hast been my faithful dear; God has often heard me say it When no ear but His could hear. Life to us has been a battle Fearful odds against us, too- - 52 PARTING WORDS. Weakness, sickness, partial blindness, With disasters not a few. But the Lord has been our Keeper Through each dark and stormy night- Never night so long and dreary But it had its dawning 1 lie-lit. So it will be in the morning, When the clouds have passed away ; Doubt and darkness lost forever In that bright, eternal day. Holy Father, safely guide us By Thy strong, unerring hand, One united, happy family, In Thy presence thus to stand. YB , 2017