LINES WRITTEN FOR THE RE-UNION OF PASTOR AND PEOPLE.
To-night, as in this pleasant home we meet,The friends of former years once more to greet,Memory is stirred; and, looking in each eye,We scarce can feel so many years have glided by,Since this dear friend and pastor, whom we love,Pointed us to the paths which lead above.As once again, we open memory’s book,Giving the past a retrospective look,Tenderly we turn the sacred pages o’er,And read the record of the days of yore.There have been changes in these homes since then,For time is ever busy in the haunts of men,And, mingling with the music of delight,Are minor strains within our hearts to-night,As we recall the voices hushed and still,Of friends who rest on yonder churchyard hill,Fathers and mothers who long since went o’erThe river we call death. From that near shoreWe almost catch the greetings, as we stand;And reaching over, clasp them by the hand.But not the old alone, the young and gay,Have vanished from our earthly homes away,Their mission ended here, they find aboveSome blessed service still, for those they love.O, not in sadness would we view the past,For over all a rainbow tint is cast;The Hand that sends the sunshine and the rain,Has on us each bestowed more joy than pain!Were there no shadows in these lives of ours,We could not fully prize the sunny hours.Too much we’re prone to dwell upon the past!The present is the moment! hold it fast!There is no future—for all time is now;Let us improve it;—while in faith we bowTo that which is, knowing it must be best;Rejoice in what we see, and trust God for the rest.So shall we each and every one—pastor and people,Hear the words “Well done.”
To-night, as in this pleasant home we meet,The friends of former years once more to greet,Memory is stirred; and, looking in each eye,We scarce can feel so many years have glided by,Since this dear friend and pastor, whom we love,Pointed us to the paths which lead above.As once again, we open memory’s book,Giving the past a retrospective look,Tenderly we turn the sacred pages o’er,And read the record of the days of yore.There have been changes in these homes since then,For time is ever busy in the haunts of men,And, mingling with the music of delight,Are minor strains within our hearts to-night,As we recall the voices hushed and still,Of friends who rest on yonder churchyard hill,Fathers and mothers who long since went o’erThe river we call death. From that near shoreWe almost catch the greetings, as we stand;And reaching over, clasp them by the hand.But not the old alone, the young and gay,Have vanished from our earthly homes away,Their mission ended here, they find aboveSome blessed service still, for those they love.O, not in sadness would we view the past,For over all a rainbow tint is cast;The Hand that sends the sunshine and the rain,Has on us each bestowed more joy than pain!Were there no shadows in these lives of ours,We could not fully prize the sunny hours.Too much we’re prone to dwell upon the past!The present is the moment! hold it fast!There is no future—for all time is now;Let us improve it;—while in faith we bowTo that which is, knowing it must be best;Rejoice in what we see, and trust God for the rest.So shall we each and every one—pastor and people,Hear the words “Well done.”
To-night, as in this pleasant home we meet,The friends of former years once more to greet,Memory is stirred; and, looking in each eye,We scarce can feel so many years have glided by,Since this dear friend and pastor, whom we love,Pointed us to the paths which lead above.As once again, we open memory’s book,Giving the past a retrospective look,Tenderly we turn the sacred pages o’er,And read the record of the days of yore.There have been changes in these homes since then,For time is ever busy in the haunts of men,And, mingling with the music of delight,Are minor strains within our hearts to-night,As we recall the voices hushed and still,Of friends who rest on yonder churchyard hill,Fathers and mothers who long since went o’erThe river we call death. From that near shoreWe almost catch the greetings, as we stand;And reaching over, clasp them by the hand.But not the old alone, the young and gay,Have vanished from our earthly homes away,Their mission ended here, they find aboveSome blessed service still, for those they love.O, not in sadness would we view the past,For over all a rainbow tint is cast;The Hand that sends the sunshine and the rain,Has on us each bestowed more joy than pain!Were there no shadows in these lives of ours,We could not fully prize the sunny hours.Too much we’re prone to dwell upon the past!The present is the moment! hold it fast!There is no future—for all time is now;Let us improve it;—while in faith we bowTo that which is, knowing it must be best;Rejoice in what we see, and trust God for the rest.So shall we each and every one—pastor and people,Hear the words “Well done.”
To-night, as in this pleasant home we meet,
The friends of former years once more to greet,
Memory is stirred; and, looking in each eye,
We scarce can feel so many years have glided by,
Since this dear friend and pastor, whom we love,
Pointed us to the paths which lead above.
As once again, we open memory’s book,
Giving the past a retrospective look,
Tenderly we turn the sacred pages o’er,
And read the record of the days of yore.
There have been changes in these homes since then,
For time is ever busy in the haunts of men,
And, mingling with the music of delight,
Are minor strains within our hearts to-night,
As we recall the voices hushed and still,
Of friends who rest on yonder churchyard hill,
Fathers and mothers who long since went o’er
The river we call death. From that near shore
We almost catch the greetings, as we stand;
And reaching over, clasp them by the hand.
But not the old alone, the young and gay,
Have vanished from our earthly homes away,
Their mission ended here, they find above
Some blessed service still, for those they love.
O, not in sadness would we view the past,
For over all a rainbow tint is cast;
The Hand that sends the sunshine and the rain,
Has on us each bestowed more joy than pain!
Were there no shadows in these lives of ours,
We could not fully prize the sunny hours.
Too much we’re prone to dwell upon the past!
The present is the moment! hold it fast!
There is no future—for all time is now;
Let us improve it;—while in faith we bow
To that which is, knowing it must be best;
Rejoice in what we see, and trust God for the rest.
So shall we each and every one—pastor and people,
Hear the words “Well done.”