LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. %p....... IttpuriBP :|n Shelf..- i^.s,.., , ^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. l?^ ttVX^ # ir ' IS >"Mmf Tv^^H.^BALL. s^^ COPYRIGHT %. ( JAM 301089,^) mptc^' CROWN^ POINT, IND. PRINTED AT THE "REGISTER" OFFICE. 1888. Copyright 1888, BY By T. H. BALL, '^ Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life to lead From joy to joy; for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men. Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith — that all which we behold Is full of blessings." These hymns and poems are colk'eted into tliisvohime ihv my personal acquaintances and friends, and not for the literary world. Many of them are memorial in their nature and will have an interest, therefoi-e, for scnne readers aside from au}^ special poetic merit. That tliey are of unequal merit I am well aware; and I have heen for many years suthciently acnpiainted with a limited range ol poetic literature to know quite well their merits and demerits. Such as they are, and written (piite hastily as of necessity nearly all of them have been, I am sure that my friends will receive them cordially into their homes and libraries, collected as they now are from different periodicals and numuscripts and pi-esented in a single volume. They are arranged, it will be seen, in chronolog- ical order. T. H. B. 5 The Noise of Riuiuing Water. 1845. "The noise as of a ruiiinno- brook In the leafy month of June, Whicli to the sleeping woods all niglit Singeth a, quiet tune." The noise of running water is music to my ear; I love to see the running brooks all seasons of the year; But when stern, stormy winter yields to spring its reign, And all the ice and snow dissolve to water clear, Then do I love to see it rush sparkling to the main. And veiy swiftly too, do the waters glide away; The limpid stream that now is seen stays not a single day. But onward to the ocean so surely doth it glide, That many, very many, a weary league away; The waters of tlie inland brook do mingle with the tide. Thus, like the waters of the brook, passes the life of man; Swiftly, as its clear waters unto the ocean ran, And passed without a single pause the longest life will be. And speedily, though lengthened to the longest span. Will disai^pear within the ocean of eternity. In Memory of ANN EELSHAW. 1846. •IJied — Uii Sunday. 'Jbt June. 1e: Will live and act to all eternity. That death is but its separation fiom The moital frame, the frame that turns to dust; And still again we learn, that tho' in dust, Thiis will be brought to life to die no more. A ploasanl and a lovely one . Has passed from earth away; On her the spoiler set his seal. She might not. could not stay; Away to realms of ^lory bright. The gentle s])irit took its Higlit. Like a fair, fresh, opening rose bud, Plucked from its parent stem. Was from its earthly house removed, This precious, priceless gem: Called by a Father kind, away. To shine in realms of endless day. Sweet was the music, when she here Sang Zion's sacred songs; But now ecstatic it must be, •Mid the angelic throngs, As she beholds her Saviour's face. And sings of all his matchless grace. She is a spirit, then is free From earthh^ pain and woe: Yet all her pleasures and ri(;h joys We do not, cannot know; We learn that all is peace and love In that bright, happy world above. Gentle sister, we shall never In life behold thee moi-e; For thj' short pilgrimage is done. Thou hast reached Canaan's sliore, Yet dost thou not with angels come To view thy friends within thy home? Thy home! ah, that is heaven now, Though wiiere, we do not know; Nor whether thou art evei- near Thy loved ones here below; We do but know that angels bright Minister to heirs of light. Stern death for thee had lost its sting, For thou couldst smiling say, "Jesus is precious to me now," — Thou didst not long to stay; And 'tis a joy for us to know Thou wast prepared and glad to go. Thy mortal frame doth rest in hope. We know " 'twill rise again," And trust it never more will know Sickness, or want, or pain; Then rest, O dust, low in the ground, Until the trumf) of God shall sound. Thy living soul, we do not doubt, Has entered into rest, And that with all the blot)d-washed throng^ 'Twill be forever blest: And we too hope when life shall end, In heaven eternity to spend. 9 DEOEPTiON, 1849. 'Ti.s said, in distant eastern lands, Where full upon the burning sands, Tlie hot sun pours his ray, In ambush near a cooling spring. The Lion, called of beasts the king, Lies down to lurk for prey: Tlie mild gazelle that ventures there. Falls thus into a deadl}^ snare. On earth, at springs where mortals drink, Unseen beside the shady brink, There lurks a deadly foe; Let those who at these springs of earth, AVould drink sweet draughts of joy and mirth, Take heed they fall not low. Quench not thy thirst; beware! I beware! A Lion lurks hi ambush there. In sunn}' climes, where bloom wild flowers. When through the sultry noontide hours. The serpents bask in heat; About the stalk of floweret fair, That with its fragrance fills the air. You may the serpent meet. The hand that culls that blossom gay, Will dearly for its beauty pay. 10 Some flowers of human mould there seem, Around us oft to bloom and beam. Lovely, and pure, and bright; But look with keen, discerning eye, And you may see a serpent sly, Hid near the cheering light. Pluck not the flower; beware! beware!! A serpenfs coiled in secret there. ''All is not gold that glitters" bright; All is not lovely, pure, and right, That is with radiance fraught; Error may lurk where truth appears, Close robed to quell all rising fears, Ui-til its work is wrought. A subtle poison oft may be, Where most but truth and beauty see. THE CLOSING YEAR. 1850. I dreamed; for we may dream in waking hours; I dreamed 'twas almost midnight, on the last Of this December's nights. That warning note Which the clock gives five minutes from the hour, Was given; and I mused, in silent thought, How soon the old year would be gone. A step, Solemn and stately, struck on fancj-'s ear; And a strange form drew near. It paused. It spoke. 11 These are its fancied words: ''Behold me here, Bowed down with age, my journey almost o'er, Three hundred, five and sixty times the sun Over the earth its 'customed path has gone. Since I began mj- course. Much have I seen. When I was young, I clothed the earth in flowers Of loveliest hue, of sweetest fragrance. The cheerful notes of joyous birds were heard From leafy boughs, at early, dewy morn. Then did I cause more rich luxuriance still, As all my vigor woke. Rich, golden grain Waved in the harvest fields; and earth's green robes Bowed to the mower's scythe. I onward went; And strewed along my pathway luscious fruits To gratify the appetite of man. Then I grew old; and the green leaves assumed Rich auburn tints and yellow hues; faded, Withered, fell; and the snows of age came down Upon the brown earth, and the naked boughs. I have heard the merry notes of children, As they wandered 'mid my flowers and streamlets, Plucking with eager hands the fruits I gave. And I have witnessed silent, gushing tears; Tears for disappointed hopes, wounded pride, Broken friendships, loved ones gone, follies wrought. I have heard the tale of a first deep love Whispered in the fair maiden's listening ear; 12 And her young light heart has been wooed and won, I have seen the bride to the altar led; The beautiful infant, yet unt^ullied By this cold, bustling world, laid low in dust. Ah! the young and the old hundreds, thousands, Who greeted my youth witli joy and gladness, Xow are not. I have seen, too. the black crimes Of the dark-hearted S(ms olnu'n, on which The light of day, and human eyes, looked not. I have seen the acts of kindness, secret. Untold deeds of love, of self-denial, Sacrifice, recorded but in heaven. ^ ^ 'h i^ ^ :;< jfj All these; and all that I have seen perforn.uMl, The good, the bad; all that has been suffej-ed And enjoyed; I carry with me. Faithful Are the records made. Whither I depart I bear them. They must be met hereafter." The midnight bell pealed on the ear. The voice Had ceased: the form had vanished. Then I knew The old year had forever gone, and half Of this, the nineteenth, century had passed. Its records sealed; its joj^s, its hopes, its fears. All ended. Hour for deep and solemn thought. This hour approaches. Who will fancy then, They hear the voice of the departing j^ear? anville, Dec. 28, 1850. 13 •BROTHER. COr^lE HCIVIE, COIVIE HCiVSE." 1851. How iiuiiiy lovely, quiet homes within thy bordeis Oh Indiana. There eoines a voice to Fancy's ear, i^'roni the home of my happy youth; 1 think of tried and loved ones dear, AVhose s})irits glow with joy and truth, And deem this wish is spoken, (Jf love another token, "Brother, come home, come home." There is one, with a manly form, An active mind, a skillful hand; A heart of kindness, noble, warm, The second in a brothers' band. I listen. "Why so long avs^ay? Oh brother, what enticing charm. Still causes you from home to stay? Come, view again our rich broad farm; Come, plunge within our lovely lake. Its waters yet are pure and clear; Come, aid us the sweet hay to make. A¥e'll shoot the grouse, we'll hunt the deer. All still is bright and beaming, Our home in beauty gleaming; Brother, come home, come home." 14 Another, with high, radiant brow, Quick, sparkling mind, and kindling eyes, Appears, in thought, before me now. '^Say brother, will that morning rise, When we shall mount our gallant steeds, Go forth and take a healthful ride, Behold our fertile, flowery meads, The beauties of our prairies wide? The haunts which you have loved remain, The calm retreats, the shady grove; (Changes are few round our domain;) And through them we again will rove. The wild fowls yet flj^ o'er us; They swim the lake before us; Brother, come home, come home." A third there is, with thoughtful mien, AVith lively feelings, tender heart; A robust youth, whose glance is keen, Formed to admire rich works of art. ''Come, brother, to our home agaih; Lay by awhile a teacher's care. Forsake the bustling scenes of men. And breathe our pure refreshing air. A 'study' nice we'll fix for you. Choice books are still upon the shelf, At morn we'll rise, fresh as the dew, And 4n the mines of knowledge' delve; Imagination glowing; On us her light bestowing; Brother, come home, come home." 15 A gentle girl, so bright, so fair, So beautirul to me, so kind, To speak of her I may not dare. Lest there should seem a trifling mind. A gentle girl, what will she say? "Brother, I should be very glad, Now, in this flowery month of May, To greet you here. Say are you sad? We have plucked the flowers of beauty, And we have woven garlands bright; Brother, is it not our duty. To love the lovely? Is it right? Our pi-airie now is charming, Delightful work is farming; Brother, come home, come home." Another, and the youngest too; Of her alike I may not speak. Oh gentle sister, what would you? "Come brother, now our quiet seek; Visit your home and friends again; For you I'll cull tlie flowrets sweet, The fairest in the woody glen; So glad, if we could only meet. The snow-white water lilies grow. As they have grown in days ot yore; Their beauty, fragrance, well you know, For you have gathered them before. Our flocks and herds are lowing, There's milk and honey flowing; Brother, come home, come home." 16 Brothers, sisters, I hope to coine, Your fiowei's, and traits, and i)K'asures share: Yours, I know, is a happy home. Scarcely touched by sorrow and eare. But I hear the voice of duly. Forbidding me a quick return. And I hope no Joy. no beauty, Will lead me e\n' that voice to spurn. These flowers, now blooming, soon will lade, The woods and meads be decked with otliers. Then, if not in earth's bosom laid, I hope to meet you, sisters, biothers. But oh! that home in Heaven! There may we meet, all seven: Brothers, sistei's, seek Home. Franklin Springs. Ala., ^lay, 1851. My Mocking Bird. 1851. I caught a royal prize, A bird with brilliant eyes. With plumage fair and bright; Child of the ''Sunnj^ South," Bird of the mocking mouth, I held it with delight. 17 Into the house I bore, To view my foundling o'er, And nurse this mocker true; Alas! it left my hands. Forsook those friendly bands, Into the fire it flew. Vain then was human aid! Though efforts kind were made. Its little life to save; But soon the glowing embers Crisped all its tender members, 'Twas rescued for the grave! Alas! poor little bird! No one th}^ wailing heard. Cruel, but quick thy death; Hushed soon thy melody, Soon was thy spirit free. Quick fled thy little breath. And now, my bright, lost treasure. Could I in sweeter measure. Like thee, a carol sing; Soft, plaintive, sad and free. It should thy requiem be. Bird of the spotted wing! Grove Hill, December, 1851. 18 Grove Hill Academy Hymns. 1851. A Morning Song. S. M. Our Father, look thou clown. In merc}^ from above; And grant thy Holy Spirit's power To fill our hearts with love. We thank thee for the light, For life, and strength, and health; We own thy sovereign power bestows, Rank, honor, beauty, wealth. We ask thee not for these; But help us through the day, Wisdom's rich stores to treasure up, And teach us how to pray. And while our morn of life Is free from sorrow's sigh, Prepare our hearts by grace divine, To dwell with thee on high. Praise to God. 7s. We, thy creatures here on earthy Prone to folly from our birth, We would offer praise to thee. Lord of Heaven, Earth, and Sea. 19 Glorious and great art thou; 'Neath thy power the mightiest bow; Cherubim and Seraphim, In thy dazzling light are dim. What are we! earth's children weak! Let us now thy blessing seek; Shield us oh thou King of kings, Bear thou us on eagle's wings. , MoENiNG Devotion. C. M. Help us to praise and honor thee, Hol}^ and blessed One; Teach us the path of purity, Teach us to love thy Son. May w^e not bow to idols vain; Let not our spirits cling. With earth's affections' uncurbed rein, To a forbidden thing. Into temptation lead us not; Our God and Father be; Wash from our souls each sinful blot, Fit us to dwell with thee! 20 A Morning Hymn. lis. Almighty, all holy, and merciful One, A Shield to the righteous, a Guardian, and Sun, Have mercy upon us and lead us aright; Protect us and bless us with heavenly light. Our proud and our stubborn hearts wilt thou subdue. Forgive us and cleanse us, create us anew, With truth and with virtue our spirits adorn, And fit for earth's duties in life's rosy morn. We thank thee, our Father, that still we are blest, That sorrow and anguish disturb not our rest; But life, now so joyous, has dark hours in store, Then grant us thy blessing we ask for no more. 21 A MESSAGE FROM T. H. B. TO E. H. W., GROVE HILL, ALA. 1863. "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the chunth-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree." Beloved sister, tidings sad I have, Which my hear^t longs to send to you and yours. How can I send it? Between us and you Lie the red fields of battle. Fearful strife Is raging now, and precious life-bldod flows. The written messengers of joy and grief Pass not that line of strife. The lightning spark, Though trained to do man's bidding, cannot flash To you, as once it could, the thrilling words, The message glad or sad. Around your clime The might of human power, just power and right, We call it, guards and barriers strong has placed, Which shut out knowledge. Ah, my sister dear. Too long, too long the dwellers in your land Have shut out knowledge. True of them it is, Once what they could they would not know, and now What they would know they cannot. Nor can we. War rages. Who has seen such strife before? So man would have it, and so God permits. — Since God permits 'tis well. Wise ends no doubt He will secure, for over all the strife. And carnage, and despair, and gloom of this Wild warfare which man's passions seem to rule. 22 He holds a firm all powerful grasp, ho who Is just, yet marcifal and good, a Judge, A gracious Father, an avenging God. God rules, and He is in this strife. — 'Tis well. But now, my sister, grief is pressing down Upon my heart. I long to let you know. Once we could weep together. IS ow apart. AVhat friend or foe will bear these words to you? The youngest of us seven, Henrie dear, Has ceased to Jive on earth. Of life not tired, Just fitted, as it seemed to us, her place To take amid its toil, and din and care, And do her part so nobly we had hoped. In life's great battle, she was called away. How can I say that Henrietta's dead? But she is dead. That mystery is solved. She knows the meaning of that solemn word. I do not know why such should die so young. And we have wept for Henrie. Many tears My eyes have shed; and I am glad the power Is given to me to weep. I envy not The stern of heart from w hom no touch of v\^oe, Nor thrill of joy, "bids the sweet waters flow." And you will weep, your tears like drops of rain Will fall, if in this vale of tears you learn That sister Henrie too has "gone before." 23 A brief sad message came to me along The silent wii-e. I hastened homewards. Soon A thousand miles were passed, but ere our home I reached, tlie burial train moved slowly forth. We met; within our pastor's home, beside Our house of prayer, father, mother, sister, Bi'other; within that Sabbath home I met The dead. Oh sister, you can think what grief, What sadness came upon me thus to meet. I looked on that loved face; but those dark eyes, So like your own, sparkling and flashing once With so much brilliancy 'mid life's bright scenes. Looked not upon me. The long lids were closed, — Gently, but firmly closed. They heeded not My presence. Slumber deep was there; yet calm And sweet the dead face seemed. I never looked On one to me so beautiful. I touched Her cheek which used to glow with life, and health, And beauty. But that cheek was cold, so cold. To the warm, gentle pressure of my hand. Oh sister, death is very cold! — How cold Death is I never knew before. My liand Once more I pressed upon her own; but now That kind right hand which had performed so much In deeds of love for others, never tired. Had surely lost its cunning. No response. Kg pressure it returned. It never failed Before. Upon her "marble brow," though cold, 24 I pressed my own warm lips. Why should I not, Though she was dead? We had not met for years, And nature's sympathies are very strong. You would, had 3^ou been there; and so would three I need not name; but thej^ were far away. I therefore gave alone that last, fond pledge Of earthly love. A kiss more sacred, pure, And tender, m}^ lips never gave. The last To her, from all upon the earth. My right It seemed to be, for she the youngest was, And I the tirst-born. Oh how sweet to think In that sad hour, between her soul and mine No cloud had ever come. One pure, true love Had knit our hearts together, and in thought, And word, and feeling, each had done to each No wrong. How happ}^ they who thus can feel In presence of the dead. Why do not all Sisters and brothers live as we have done? Oh happy, happy home! sweet type of heaven. It was our wish that Henrie still might live, Enjoy some longer here that pleasant home In v^hich God cast her lot, and from her heart, So sunny, shed forth longer still, rich joy On all around her; enter active life, The active life of woman, in some sphere Of quiet labors spend the years of toil Allotted here to many, and do good, 25 Much good to others, winning for herself Just meeds of praise as she should gain success, And thus adorn the Gospel which she loved. Such was our wish. But such was not God's will. His will is right. We bow to his decree. She has achieved success, if, as we trust, — If, as we cannot doubt, she rests above. What can a child of earth gain more? Faithful To the end of life she proved, — so faithful To her baptismal vows; and Jesus came, She felt his presence with her; — came to take Her home to rest until the morning dawns. A crown of righteousness he then will give. She rests and she enjoys. And side by side With our loved brother has her dust been laid. You stood among us when we laid him there. There may those forms of cla}^ repose till day, — The near approaching day, I sometimes think, Of the bright resurrection morning, breaks Along the sky. Kest brother; sister rest. We too ere long shall sleep, and may we wake With you in glory; wake to join the throng, — The countless, blood-bought throng of kings and priests That shall with Jesus reign, and dwell with him Forever. Oh my sister dear, happy Those parents who train children for the skies. Cedar Lake, Ind., February 1863. . 4 26 IN MEMORY OF JIMMIE H. COFFIN. 1863. Six years of age, who was killed by the cars at Newiou >arre, June 22. 1863. ?L little gentle boy, who had been at school all day, ^Vent from his mother's side one eventide to play: With his beloved playmates he sported pleasantly, >o full of life, and gladness, and of childish glee. STone thought of danger near him the youngest of that band, ^'or then they would have held fast to that little hand; Jis mother and his sister had not a thought or fear, rhat they on earth no more his pleasant voice would hear. ^one thought, nor could have thought, that ere that day was done rhat young and gentle soul would be "beyond the sun," 'Forever and forever with those just souls and true," XL Paradise above beyond the ether blue. >o from his pleasant home with his brothers forth he went — ^ messenger perhaps God had already sent — le went a little distance and reached the rail-road track; rhe cars! Pale, mangled, dead, from thence one bore him back. 27 Death in one brief moment came and took him by surprise, Those swift cars o'er him passed before his brothers' eyes: They stopped; and in a moment his father left the train, To have his spirit rent with anguish and with pain. How terrible it seems in an instant thus to die! And what a sight was that to meet a father's eye! But God is good and kind, and he deals with us in love; He knows best how and when to take us up above. If we do but safely reach that bright and blissful shore, Where sorrow and where sin will never harm us more, I'm sure it matters not now God takes the spirit back,. Whether from beds of pain, or from the rail-road track. And when that glad morning comes that bids the dead arise. And they are ''caught up" to meet Jesus in the skies, I'm sure it will not matter 'mid all that thrilling joy, How or when death came and took this beloved boy. Newton Centre, July, 1863. 28 THANKSGIVING HYMN. Note— After the fall of Vicksbuig, and the capture of Fortress Monroe, in 1863, the President recommended the )bservance of a day of Thanksgiving. The following hymn vas sung at. Crown Point, during the services of that day, September 11, 1863: God of our fathers, now to thee, Our grateful homage we would pay; Thou leadest on the bond, the free; Help us to praise thy might to-day. Thou lovest right, thou hatest wrong; By thee the bondmen's chains are riven; Beleagured town and fortress strong. Into our hands by thee are given. For this we praise thy matchless power, For this we lift our hearts to thee; In each exultant, joyous hour. Do thou our Guide and Fortress be. We recognize thy powerful hand; We bow before thy holy might; Oh be thou gracious to our land, Oh bring us forth to noon-tide light. 29 "WILLIE E. OKEIGHTON." Note - In the fall of 1863 a postal route was opened that letters from tlie South mip:ht pass through Fortress Monroe, subject to the inspection of Government officials. Such a letter from Mis. E. H. Woodard, of Grove Hill, reached Cedar LaUe. Ir was cnrefully worded, announced the death in Mississippi a few w. ek- before of Willie Creighton, and ada lovely prairie in the State of Ind, In a pleasant home well sheltered from the wind, Two little Howers appeared not many years ago. Growing in the sunshine and dreading not the snow. Like the lily opening, like the rose, they grew^ Showing forth alike the sweet, the pure, the true: Like twins indeed they seemed on one rich rose stalk set, Fed by the self-same showers, by the same dew-drops wet. P'ast they grew and lovely thus growing side by side; But lovely things and pleasant may not long abide; The one was taken up within the gates of light. The other blooms in beauty here with us to-night. Said I two little flowers? Oh no, two gentle birds, Came to that prairie home, I change two little words; One came in glowing autumn, mid October's sun; The other in December, this the youngest one. I know not whence they came, but I am very sure They seemed to us like doves and like the ro])ins pure. Were they birds of passage? or were thej^ birds of song? One flew to Paradise; may this one tarry long. 37 Did I Hay flowers and birds? They were my sisters dear. Who for some twenty years were seldom severed here; Alike they grew in knowledge and alike in love, Were they gentle visitants sent us from above? They were the household pets, the 3^oungest of our band; (There are not "seven" to-night together here to stand;) It has been said, the youngest never do grow old; 'Tis sure that loving natures never need grow cold. Joy for that flown and freed one. Perfect joy and love Are where we trust she dwells among the good above. And joy to this young bride, unmingled by earth's fear; Though perfect joy and bliss are not the dwellers here. Yet to sister Mary and brother Andrew joy! May life for them be bright witli little to annoy. No tears are shed to-night around our household tree; For hope, and peace, and love, go with the truly free. The road to Fame is sometimes rough and steep; No palace rail-road car can reach her temple's gate; And often we must be content to creep, To gain those dizzy heights on paths unknown to fate. 38 A FAREWELL TO OUR CEDAR LAKE HOMESTEAD. 1b70. To-Jiiorrovv that loved spot we last called home Into tlie hands of strangers passes; I Cannot but feel sad, although we freely Grave it up, freely signed the title deeds. For many years have clustered round that spot The strong home feelings. A true home is dear On earth, well called our brightest type of heaven. Farewell to thee, thou home. No more within Thy rooms, the scenes of pleasant intercourse So long; vocal so oft with praj^er and praise; Desecrated never yet by midnight Noisy revels; — no more shall we repose, Or rest, or enter, but as stranger guests. Thy present owners will not know thy full And blessed memories. Farewell to all Those rooms, and quiet nooks, and last of all To those thrice hallowed by the peaceful death Of dear ones; we (;annot forget that ther-e Sweet Henrie, and gentle brother Charlie, And an aged father, loved and honored, Looked their last upon us; and hallowed too By sister Mary's joyous bridal houi", In the bright hues of which so late we met. Hallowed by grief so great and joy so pure, How can we thee ibrget, home of the past! 39 Farewell to thee, bright grove. How many times Long years ago into thy shade I came, Laying the sharp scythe by to rest from toil, And drink from that cool spring, now and for years Vanished beneath the surface. And how fair Those youthful fanciers and romantic thoughts. Viewing thy possibilities for rare Wild beauty, planning then to make thee mine, Thinking how loved and gentle ones would come And sportive children play amid thy shades, And laugh along thj^ flowing waters there. And they did come; jungle and dell they came. Almost beyond my fairest youthful thoughts They came, and wandered in that very spot, And in their youth and joy and freshness they Kejoiced amid thy beauty, where, from toil Reposing, I in boyhood built air castles. Strange that so many of my early dreams. My day dreams, ever fair, have been so well Accomplished! But these and I, as owners Of the soil, as having any heirship Left in thee, amid thy summer foliage, Or through thy hazel mazes, or in dell So bright and sunny, or in jungle Dense and dark, where earliest spring flowers grew, Will roam, and play, and dream no more. And so Farewell. Farewell to all. 'Tis winter now; But I have known thit.e early, glad, spring freshness; 40 I know thy summer beauty; and I know Thy autumn richness; I know thee in all Seasons well. Thou art the last of those rich Acres broad, last of the three plantations Lying near to thy clear waters, glorious Lake of the Red Cedars, from out our hands To pass. The three have gone to strangers now And thus all my ancestral homes of old Have all, save one, passed, one by one, to hands Of others. Our halls are held by strangers. There was no English law to hold and keep Them for the first-born, and they passed; passed not Because they must, but as each generation Chose. We are Americans, and so we Love to change and roam, and open pathways For the feet of others; and all preferred, Though pleasant, fair, and lovely all these homes Have been, each has preferred, all to go forth And find new seats, and found new homes for them And for their children. This is our custom, If not Anglo-Saxon law; and, thus far, Peace, and love, and hope seem to go with us. And therefore, last of all the Cedar Lake Possessions, spot my father last called home, Meadowsand fields and woodlands, orchard, house, Flowers, fruits, jungle and dell, and crystal well, Farewell, r hopeful, yet a long farewell. January 4, 1870. 41 A HYMN. C. M. Written in West Creek township on the road south of Mr Marvin's. A faith I have, a growing faith In Jesus Christ's own word; I look to him for righteousness, I own him as my Lord. A hope I have, a blessed hope, That when this life is o'er I shall be with the blood-washed throng Upon the shining shore. A love I have, a constant love, Kindled within my breast; A foretaste, as it seems to me. Of the eternal rest. Father, I lift my heart to thee; I thank thee that thy grace To me has ever been vouchsafed That I might seek thy face. Thy face I sought, thy love received, What need I ask for more? Earth and its snares will soon depart; Thee ever I'll adore. 42 INVITATION TO PRAYER. 1869. [for g. e. b.] Player moves the aim that moves the world. In childhood's tearful hour, When clouds of sorrow lower, When anguish deep hath power, Pray; yes, pray. When friends are kind and true: Earth wears her brightest hue, All gloom is hid from view^ Pray; yes, pray. My child, if thou wouldst seek, The blessing of the meek, And strength when thou art weak, Pray; yes, pray. My child, if thou wouldst flee The foes that lurk for thee, And through earth's snares pass free, Pray; yes, pray. 43 In memory of Liirina H. Vinoedge, daughter of James T. Vinnedge, and member of Mis. Ball's infant class, born Nov. 10, 1869, who died at, Crown Point, March 22, 1877. FOR THE CLASS. But seven years of age, and laid beneath the sod; A gentle little girl, her soul has gone to God; In Paradise she shares the gracious Saviour's love, And loving him we too shall go to dwell above. A message for her came, came from the Lord of life; Permission came to leave this world of toil and strife; She lay upon her couch and closed her dreamy eyes, She partly waked, then slept to waken in the skies. Her slender little form, robed in the spotless white, Was laid out to repose through death's uncertain night, Little class-mates went, and her loving teacher dear, To see the folded bud that might not blossom here. Within the open coffin there at rest she lay; One scarce could think that form was only lifeless clay; So quiet and so peaceful in her narrow bed. She seemed a weary child resting her graceful head. Death is not often lovely to a human eye, Nor often beautiful beneath earth's changing sky; But beauty rare and sweet was resting on her face, From which not even death could steal away the grace. 44 As in some ancient forest in a lonely glen, Far from the busy world, the world of toiling men, We sometimes find a wild flower exquisitely fair, Glad'ning with its beauty lonely wanderers there — So, in her village home, she la}^ awhile at rest, Without the gentle motion of the heaving breast, In a wondrous loveliness charming to the heart, Of God's signet telling stamped on the mortal part. The cheeks, of course, were bloodless and the lips were pale, Sharing not the glow of the lily of the vale; But few sculptors' chisels can finei features trace, Than the well set lineaments ol this dead young face; And a soft light was resting on each curtaining lid. Which a once sunny eye from look of love now hid. And the long dark lashes seemed in such sweet repose, You'd think the eyes must open when the sun arose. Here was that rarest beauty, here that peace so sweet, As though the ej^es had closed to wait for angels' feet; But death had sealed forever each soft curtaining lid, No more on earth to waken till the Saviour bid. No painter with his skill was present on that day, To trace that peaceful beauty; so this simple lay, Simple and childlike if it be, to help us keep In mind how peaceful yet may be our own long sleep. 46 When on the summer morns in Sabbath School we meet, No more we'll hear the sound of Rina's coming feet, But we can think of her within the Jasper wall. And seek the Saviour's love to rest upon us all. In memory of.IulhiB. Summers, often called Lulu, a mem- ber of thn North Street Sunday school, as fair and lovely as a child of earth could well he, born in Crown Point Nov. 27, 1870, who dind July 26, 1877. We lost another little one. So beautiful and bright; Her eyes were like some costly gem Or like the stars of night. Her heart was full of tenderness, As earthly paths she trod, And by some secret "influence sweet," Seemed "upward drawn to God." Her feet seemed very early turned In Wisdom's ways to go; And through the Saviour's righteousness, Her robes are now like snow. Her lips were like some opening bud, And oft in music low, "What a friend we have in Jesus," Would in sweet accents flow. 46 Her form was symmetry and grace; Her heart was made for love; And we know not the radiance, In which she dwells above. Her mind a fountain fresh and clear, Of sparkling, childlike thought; Her soul, a jewel for our King, Was long ago blood-bought. She looked upon the earth and sky. She gladdened one bright home, And then she went to Paradise, Up through the great blue dome. And there this fair and lovely child. Child of immortal mold, Will look for us to enter in And walk the streets of gold. And we 'mid all the shining throngs, Will know her loving heart, Will know her beaming eyes of light, And meet no more to part. So two have now before us gone, And here we learn the way. Life's duties nobly to perform, And reach the endless day. 47 Hymn sun^ at the Burial Services: Safe must this loved one be, Father of love and light; We trust ourselves, our all, with thee; Thy home above is bright. And in that home so bright, With dear ones gone before, We're sure she feels a rich delight, Sure she will grieve no more. Thus safely may we trust. In thee, oh Saviour, Friend; And we will plant this lovely dust, To wait that glorious end; Till thou shalt come again. And give it second birth; Till thou in bliss shalt come again, And reign o'er all the earth. But here we breathe a prayer. Our Father, God, to thee; Commending to th}^ loving care, One whom thou now dost see. One 'mid the mountains wild. The father of this dust. Himself a grieved and wand'ring child, Needing in thee to trust. 48 When the full meaning falls Upon his bleeding heart, That, safe within the Jasper Walls, Where loved ones never part, His darling Lulu passed, — Oh Saviour be thou near, Show him how long thy love will last, Remove each doubt and fear. And may this precious child Lead him close up to thee. For thou wast orice the Glorious Child For all humanity. And now, enthroned above. Thou canst our sorrows feel, Oh Saviour, full of pitying love. Do thou our sorrows heal. STRAY THOUGHTS. Written Nov. 16, 1877, Friday afternooD, durlLg three and a half miles travel between the Woods Bluff road and Clarke's store, in Alabama, the pommel of the pony's saddle being the writing desk, The world is dark with none to love; The world is dull with naught to doj And without light from heaven above, In vain earth's pathways we pursue. 49 There must be hope for better things, There must be hope for brighter days Wliile round frail joj^s affection clings And we press on in toilsome ways. There must be hope to cheer the soul, If we surmount the cares of life. And keep the wounded spirit whole. And lose not courage in the strife. And hope there may be, for us all, Hope to the soul like anchor strong, A hope not dim, nor frail, nor small, A hope for aye and ages long. Long reaching, on and on for aye, A hope that gilds life's darkest night. That shines along the loneliest way, With beams of heaven-born loveliest light. And work there is for all to do. Work suited to each heart and hand, Abiding work, secure and true, In every corner of our land. And there is ever One to love, The Good One, Father, Saviour, Friend, Who sends to us the Heavenly Dove, Whose love for us need never end. 50 And there are hearts to love and bless, Sweet lips to sing some soothing lays, Eartli-forms to love and to caress, Kind friends to cheer us all our days. These may not wear the brightest hues, Of earth-born beauty, beauty rare. But we may always find and choose. Those that are gentle, good, and fair. Then let us work, and love, and dare. Earth is not dull nor dark nor lone, \¥e sow, in hope that we shall share Rich hai'vests from the seed well sown. TO MINNIE. 1877. Eight yeti:t of age. daughter of the Hon. J. S. and Mr». Alice Dickinson, of Grove Hill, Alabama. I'm glad I've seen you, Minnie, And touched j-our auburn hair, And looked into your dove-like eyes. And on your cheeks so fair. I'm glad you live here, Minnie, Though in a world of care, To help to make some pathways bright, And help some griefs to share. 51 I hope you'll learn well, Minnie, And seek for words of truth. And treasure up bright gems of thought In these sweet years of youtli. I trust you'll right do, Minnie, And ever shun the wrong, For truth and right, eonibined in one, Forevermore are strong. May you be happy, Minnie, In loving what is fair, And spend your years of earthly life, Outside the clouds of care. But best of all now, Minnie, I hope you'll love one Friend, Who loves his own disciples here, With love that does not end. And if you love him, Minnie, The Saviour of our race. He'll fill your heart with living love, And grant you his rich grace. And then in Heaven, Minnie, In Paradise above, You can learn at length the meaning, Of ^^everlasting love." 52 A LETTER. My dearest, darling one, Great blessing of my life, Child reared beneath this sun, My own sweet, chosen wife; — It seems to me I hear A little plaint of sadness, Because I am not near On Christmas, day of gladness; Because I've staid away So long from home and thee; Because, day after day, My form thou canst not see; Because I tarry here. In this bright sunny clime. Where many friends are near. And swiftly flies the time; — It seems to me, I say. As though my ears could hear, A little plaintive lay, That breathes in sadness drear. My darling, do not grieve. This air is soft and mild, But can one e'er believe It has my heart beguiled? 53 These woods are bright and green; These running streams are clear; The joyous birds are seen; But THOU, thoti art not near J And here are sunny eyes, And they seem fair to me, Their pleasant looks I prize, For they are near to thee. Dear kindred these of thine, Who of like blood partake; I call them also mine; I love thein for thy sake. But here awhile I tarry, If all my work were done. To see our Lillie marry. Beneath December's sun. And I have work on hand, This toilsome work of brain. Searching the records of this land, That once belonged to Spain. This /'land," I mean this South, At first called Flowery Earth, Where birds of mocking mouth, And bright eyed girls have birth. 54 It is not native beauty, That holds me like a dream; It is the voice of duty, Not sun, nor bird, nor stream. Then, darling, do not grieve, Because I am not near; Upon this Christmas eve I send thee words of cheer. My work is almost o'er, I hasten back to thee, I count the weeks no more, Swiit may the moments be. The evergreens I leave, 'Mid which I love to roam; This little lay I weave, To say, /'m coming home. Grove Hill, Alabama, December, 1877. Written for David A. Chapman and Miss Lillie H, Wood ard and presented to them on their bridal eve. To-night within this home there's light; It is the light of love; And love forever will make bright The home that is above. 55 But earth-born love needs heaven-born grace; And when entwined in one, Then children of this human race Find happiness begun. Two lives within this home to-night, Are blending into one; True hearts and hands we here unite, Pledged till life's work is done. Once, in the land of Galilee, To Cana's village small, A Jewish marriage rite to see There came the Lord of all. Though not within a princely hall, That bride, I think, was fair; And Jesus Christ himself they call, And his disciples there. Here, in this broad and sunny land, Home of the fig and vine. Within that Saviour's love we stand, And on his arm recline. His blessing therefore we expect; In confidence we pray; His words we do not dare neglect, But heed them day by day. 66 Young wedded pair, I wish you joy^ Serene, abiding, true, Which nothing oartlily ndeeJahomo,aHne .pecmen of what a Christian home miiy !«■. fifth cfin^a Haiiie Stroth.r Chapman, refened to in ihe^ ^['^ _'''^^^\': was Judge Woodard's first grandchild, in whosa darU, earnest eyes a w now in Paradise. rnrld of wonder layra very quiet and winning child Written fo. Miss Georgia Williams of Bashi and George Megginson, on th-ir marriage eve December 11, 1879. "This world is ftill of beauty Just like the worlds above, And if we did our duty It might be full of love." These words, by some one spoken, Contain a living truth; But bright ties oft are broken, That bind our hearts in youth. We do not do our duty. In filling earth with love; We drink not in the beauty. That glows around, above. But, Georgia, I am trusting That you may gain success. Your heart and life adjusting To Scripture righteousness. 66 The dew-drop of the morning- Soon dries beneath the sun; To us it giveth warning That lifers race soon is run. While eartlily life is fleeting, Your own but scarce begun. You have a hope of meeting Where comes no setting sun. The dew-drop in the lily Spoils not its fragrance sweet; But when the night gi'ows chilly Some flowery petals meet. If then the tears of sorrow Should dim your lustrous e3^e, Be mindful that the morrow Finds love still nestling nigh. This truth will bear repeating, That in the soul lies woi-th; For girlhood's charms are fleeting^ They fade like things of earth. And may you, now possessing This youthful heart and hand^ Both find and prove a blessing; By her in trials stand. 67 Your single life is ending; You're husband now and wife; And may your two souls blending Share a loving, happy life. Be faithful to each other; In joy and sorrow pray; You have a Friend, a Brother, In the realms of perfect day. Ill him through life believing. You will find that life is sweet; And from him grace receiving, In Heaven at last you'll meet. OUR BROAD LAND, Written in the morning of July 21, 1881, and originally published in The Youth's Companion. Inserted here by permission. Tune — "America." Land of the prairies wide, Washed by two oceans' tide, Land of our birth; Land where the mountains proud Are often capped with cloud; Of thee we sing aloud, Fair clime of earth. 68 Land of the forest deep. Where countless echoes sleep Which man will wake; Where cedar, oak, and pine, And many a wood of tliine, Fragrance and strength combine^ For us to take: — Land of the lakes and streams^ AVhere not the old triremes, But steamers ply; Land of broad vale and mead, Where Hocks and lierds now feed^ Supplying many a need, Glad'ning the eye: — Land of rich grass and grain, Of cotton and of cane. Of fruits and vines; Of gold and silver bright, Of wells of oil for light, Of coal to cheer the night. Of iron mines. (>9 1 ) si;1<)ri()iis land of on j"s, Nol lu'lil by lordly, towci-s, I^niul of th<^ IVce; Land oftli'' i'vvv and l)i'a.V('.. Whose slioiH's fVcH'. waters lave, < Jod's }4,race for thee we erave, We j)ray lor llice. A THANKSGiVIN'G HY^IN. CM. July 25, I8b1. VVe sini;- the oloi'ies oi' oui* land, A son<;- of j)rais<' to-day; AW', who are now a nHghiy Iwmd: 'Vo (Jod we sijjo- and pray. Land where Ihe iMJi^rini ar.. A Hymn, Faith, Hope, Love, / . A Burial Service Hymn. 8. A National Hymn. 9. A Thanksgiving Hymn. 10. A Memorial Hymn. 11. Memorial Hymn. 12. Memorial, Hymn. 18. An Easter Hymn. 14. An Alumni Hymn. 18 18 19 20 28 41 47 67 69 73 76 79 118 120