LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chai).LO.Topyright No Shelf.i!i..'g.57 H J UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. HOME SONGS CHRONICLES of THE ELLIS / LUCRETIA T. HOWE PRINTED BY RUMFORD FALLS PUBLISHING CO. RuMFORD Falls, Maine 1899 L Two 5l;364 Copyright, 1899, BY Ll'CRETIA T. HOWE. 8£C0ND OOPV, SiU£.4-."*3'=i. I Dedicate this little Book To all who bear our name, And pray heaven's richest blessing may Descend upon the same. And while another century rolls Along this valley fair, May sweeter songs than ours arise Upon the evening air. And may we ever cherish those We knew in childhood's days. And in this book their deeds record In humble songs of praise. CONTEINTS. Page The Old House, I My Grandfather's Clock, 2 My Brook, .... 4 A Spring Song, .... 6 An August Day, 7 The Chronicles of the Ellis, 7 A Song to Summer, 17 Decoration Day, i8 The Old Red Cradle, i8 The Everlasting Hills, 21 The Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. N. W. Elliott, 22 A Birthday Offering, 25 My Birthday, .... 27 The First Robin, 30 Children's Day, 30 Easter Lilies, 32 Children's Day and Harvest Concert, 33 Children's Day, 35 Easter Song, .... 37 A Fourth July Hymn, 39 For the Children, 40 In Memoriam, . . . .41 She Rests, . . . . 42 "He Giveth His Beloved Sleep," . . 42 She Was Young to Die, . . 43 Lines on the Death of Mrs. Y. A. Thurston, .... 44 Lines on the Death of Mr. Charles Proctor, and daughter, Roberta, . 46 On Visiting the Old Home, . , 47 A Greeting for the C. E. Convention, . 48 Eightieth Birthday of Mrs. Mary Ford, 49 Silver Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. J. K. Elliott, . . . . 51 Reception given B. C. Wood, . . 52 Decoration Day, ... 55 The Message, . . . -57 Christmas at J. K. Elliott's, . . 58 A Christmas Carol, .... 60 A Christmas Carol, ... 62 The Grange Dinner, . . .65 Memorial Day, ... 69 In Memory of Rev. John Elliott, . . 70 In Memory of Mrs. J. H. Rawson, . 71 The Ninety-second Birthday, . . 72 In Memory of Miss Sarah P. Abbott, . 73 Uedication of the Church, • • • 75 Happy Greeting, ... 76 Ninetieth Birthday of Mrs. Marcia Smith Stevens, ... 78 An Easter Offering, . . . . 80 Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. W. A. Johnson, . , . 81 Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Metcalf, .... 84 Memorial Day at Forest Hills, . . 85 The Old Churchyard, ... 86 A Golden Wedding, ... 88 The River Mascoma, . . . gi A Tribute to Bethel, ... 92 The Golden Wedding, ... 94 The Bethel Church Centennial, . 95 A Birthday Sonnet, ... 97 Birthday Greeting, ... 97 Installation of the Pilgrim Fathers, . 99 Evergreen Cemetery, Westbrook, Me., loi Maine General Hospital, . . . 103 The Eighty-fifth Birthday of Jedediah Kimball, . . . .107 Tribute to Neal Dow, . . . 11 1 The Old Butternut Tree, . . .113 Going Home, . . . . 114 Lines for a Friend's Fiftieth Birthday, . 115 A Song to Minnesota, . . . 116 The City of Lincoln, Neb., . . 118 Winter Scenes, . . . . 119 Free Journeys Around the World, . . 121 Lines on Presenting a Watch to Rev. William Hyde, . . . .124 Friend Amy's Home, . . . 125 In Remembrance of Baby Amy Chessman, 126 In Memoriam, . . . . 127 Visit of Miss Annie Stockbridge, . . 127 The Old Home at Andover, . . 129 The Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. N. S. Lufkin, . . , 130 She is not Dead, but Sleepeth, . . 134 Wedding Bells, .... 135 A Wedding Chime, .... 136 The Fortieth Wedding Anniversary, . 137 The Eightieth Birthday of Mrs. H. M. Abbott, . . . .138 Tribute to Sullivan R. Hutchins, . 140 A Fireside Reverie, . . . . 141 Evening, .... 141 The Picnic, ..... 142 xiv. Rumford Grange Field Day, . . 145 A Fourth of July Oration, . . .147 A Random Shot, . . . 151 Ellis River Literary Union, . . 153 The Closing Session of the Literary Union, 155 Oration at Hutchins' Grove, . . 156 Thanksgiving Day, . . . .160 THE OLD HOUSE. THE old House stands where it long has stood, For eighty years or more; The pride and joy of my grandparents' hearts, In the happy days of yore. And from the old House they went softly out, And left wide an open door. That all their dear children might follow on. And reach the other shore. Their children lived near and toiled among These hills and valleys fair, And peace and plenty seemed to smile Around them everywhere. The old House became my dear father's care. The only child born to them here. Where he spent his long and eventful life, 'Till past his forescore year. And here he brought his fair young bride. And labored many a day; And a group of merry children were seen About the old House at play. 2 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. We can never forget their fortitude, In the days and years gone by; Heaven grant their confidence may be ours, To cheer life's evening sky. "They have finished their course and kept the faith," And passed out by the open door. Though we may watch for them many a day. They will never return to us more. MY GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK. Ellis River, 1896. GRANDFATHER'S old clock stands stately and still, In the ancestral halls of famed Orchard Hill, Where he set it a ticking a long time ago, For he lived here and died here, as some of you know. Grandfather moved here and cleared up his farm, Put up a snug house, a workshop and barn, And added slowly to his income and stock, And to bring things to time bought a nice wooden clock. Grandfather's old clock tick-ticked along. And his boys and girls grew sturdy and strong; The sons settled down with their sweet young brides. And cleared up farms by the fair Ellis' sides. My Grandfather'' s Clock. 3 And here they toiled on for many a year, Adding acres and children life's rough ways to cheer, And the clock ticked away the golden hours. While the valleys bloomed with sweet spring flowers. The daughters married and moved away, According to fashions of that early day; In their humble homes they dwelt content, With commonplace duties their lives were spent. Their children spread out to every shore, And many, alas! will return no more; We shall long remember with love and pride, Those large households by the Ellis' side. My dear, dear old Grandfather I never saw. He had several years crossed over the bar Where they never need clocks to measure the time, Nor yet hands to point out its glories sublime. Life's pendulum here swung on to its close, Ticking out its full weights of joys and of woes, Running its daily lines in this pleasant place, With a happy, contented, smiling face. In the course of time Grandfather was laid To sleep his last sleep in summer's sweet shade; But the clock ticked on by night and by day, Telling us the years were fast passing away. Grandfather's children have all found their rest With their toil worn hands folded over their breast, But we, their children, will long revere And cherish their memories year after year. 4 Home Sofigs and Chrofiicles of the Ellis. The old clock too, thinks its life work o'er, And will not condescend to tell the time more; And awaits with the fathers the glorious hour. Of a Master-builder's skill and power. Grandfather's old clock will alw'ays remain A fine work of art, worthy its ancient name; And long will its striking appeals touch the heart, And its faithful message, you too must depart. The next time you call around at Orchard Hill, You will see the old clock standing solemn and still; It's hands spread over it's time-worn face. With an eager, expressive, old fashioned grace; Its pendulum silent, awaiting still, A master hand with its cunning skill. MY BROOK. vNCE on a time a rill set out From its mountain home to look about. With a happy face it ran away, Singing its song by night and day. It never stopped in its earnest quest, To search for happiness or rest. Sometime, 'tis true 'twould meander along, But always singing a joyous song. Sometime it would dance o'er its pebbly way, But would never stop to idle or to play. It enjoyed a leap or a pretty fall. Or a daring run by the mountain wall. My Brook. The trees bent down surprised to see From whence its source of joy could be; And all the wild flowers on the way Would smile to see its ripples gay. The happy bird would sit and sing Beside the rill in early spring, And call its mate to come and stay And build their nest in balmy May. And other rills came tumbling down The mountain side only to drown Themselves within this happy rill Whose course was ever onward still. It rippled o'er the meadows too, Because it loved some good to do, And gained such favor that it took Unto itself the name of brook. In its deep nooks the fishes fly When prowling fishermen come nigh; The cattle on a thousand hills Would slake their thirst at its pure rills. The horses and the sheep would run To its cool shade in midday sun. Upon its bank a mill was set, Whose battered frame is standing yet. At length it grew so very wide A bridge was laid from side to side. And so it ran year after year, A thing of life and love and cheer. Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. And here we idly stand and sigh, And turn away and say good bye; The Ellis takes it to its heart Saying, "My dear child we'll never part." A SPRING SONG. To The Ellis River, 1896. LOVELY Ellis, awake from your slumbers And tell us what fancies your dreaming may bring. Awake, awake, burst the fetters that bind thee, Already I see a faint dawning of Spring. O lovely Ellis, we long to behold thee. Your bright happy face can make our hearts light, And the pleasant sound of your rippling laughter Can awaken the wind-flower and violets bright. O lovely Ellis, the trees bending o'er thee. Are waving their branches, dark, sullen and shrill; Awaken, and clothe them again in new beauty. That we may rejoice in thy loveliness still. O lovely Ellis, roll on to the ocean, And lovingly smile on all by the wa}^; With our mountains and valleys we cannot forget thee. For like thy bright waters we are hastening away. Afi August Day. 7 AN AUGUST DAY. AT early morning when I walk abroad And contemplate the wondrous works of God; Watch the mists rise and calmly float away, I hail with new delight the opening day. When midday sun the vast creation fills With light and heat, o'ershadowing vales and hills; I rest me in the shadows by the way, Beholding still the wonders of the day. When evening's long drawn shadows earthward tend, And all earth's poor, tired laborers homeward wend. The sun sinks slowly down with purple ray, Reflecting still the glories of the day. THE CHRONICLES OF THE ELLIS. Feb. 13, 1899. I WONDER where my schoolmates are who fifty years ago, Walked over these old winding roads thro" winter's drifts and snow; Laughing and chatting gaily in homespun blue or brown. Who hardly ever lost a day though tempests raged around. I often get to thinking of the days of long ago. And ask where all my schoolmates are; does any- body know? 8 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. Where are the Perry girls and boys, Sarah, George and Caroline, Silvanus Poor and Christopher and Lewis down the line; Where's Betsy Hutchins, Enoch, with his jewsharp and his song Of "Two Burnt Holes in a Blanket," that cheered the noontime on. Where are David Hutchins' family of laughing girls and boys Who lived along the Ellis and shared its simple joys; There were Enos, Lucy, Mary, Lydia, Lucinda, Jacob and Sarah too. While cousin Joel, Nancy Swan, Asa Boyden rise in view. And several others by that name in days long passed away. Are numbered with my schoolmates; where are they all today? Where are Eben Abbott's family, Matilda and Sophia, Who used to gather with us around the blazing fire, And Nelson and Barzillai, and Charles the younger son. Attended school in those old days and added to the fun. Where are Hazen Abbott's girls and boys who lived beside the brook. And told us many a fish story they caught by line and hook; The Chronicles of the Ellis. g Where's Dolly, Susan, Hannah, Marshall and Lucet- ta Ann, Who joined in all our country sports and mischief helped to plan; And Henry Martin, in his prime, used to the school declaim, "Pity the Sorrows of a Poor Old Man," winning applause and fame. Where are the John Howe boys and girls who lived next house below, They used to number six or seven, why, don't you think it's so! Charles Barker and Elizabeth, Asa, Rufus, Horace, John, And Charlotte and Lucinda, Nancy Ellen, the fairest one; And Rufus, strong and steady, was never known to fail Of being the last one on the road carrying the din- ner pail; But oh, the turnovers and cheese and doughnuts were so fine, I wish someone would have the same and ask me out to dine. And who can tell how many from the house hard by the school, Were added to our numbers, helping out each teach- er's rule; The Whittemores, the Moores, Chases, Elliotts, An- drews, who can tell How many used to gather around the olden well. 10 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. I wonder if my schoolmates think of those old scenes today, While these lovely hills and valleys re-echo, "Where are they?" And where is Uncle Calvin Howe and his old red pung sleigh, He used to gather quite a load driving along the way; With Frances and Mark Trafton, Lucretia, Julia, Clare, And Emma, Jane and younger ones, plenty of room to spare; And if they got tipped over they called it lots of fun, And picked themselves all up again and av/ay the colts would run. Where are the Jefif Howard girls and boys, Humph- rey, Elias, Tom, And Huldah and Orinthia, Charles, Rodney F. and John; And where are Allen Segar's folks, Amos, Milton, Mary and Dana B., Who often were disgusted with the teachers, don't you see? And where is Janey Farnum so pleasant and so fair. With eyes so blue and tender and pretty golden hair. Where are the John Rolfe girls and boys who lived upon the hill. Many of us remember how large a place they would fill; The Chronicles of the Ellis. ii As teachers and as scholars they served their district well, And of the pleasant times held there you must have heard one tell; Where's Ruth, Henry, John, and Hannah, Clara and Oscar D., While Carter, Moody, Betsey and Hannah taught us our A. B. C. Where are the Jacob Elliott boys who came from Pembroke here. And bought the Joel Howe old farm, growing richer every year; Kittridge and John Emery, and Matthew were in the the olden schools. And oft declaimed "The Three Black Crows" and "Forty Old Maid Fools," Who went to an auction and bid off forty old worthy Bach's, And carried them safe to their homes upon their slender backs. Where's Timothy Holt's girls and boys who lived way down below, Webster and Scott and Chauncey, David, William, Hannah, Chloe, And cousin Newton, Emily, Henry and Cordelia Stearns; And pretty Alice Waterhouse to whom my memory turns; 12 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. Where's Mariam and Charles H. Rolfe with cheeks red as the rose, On any blustering morning in winter's frost and snows. What has become of Aurora Black and where is Irene Keech, She used to have a sparkling eye, cheeks mellow as a peach; Where's William Foye and William Brown and Ben- jamin P. Snow, The girls all called him "Wonderful" some fifty years ago. Where's Lydia Frost and Lucy, and where is Emma Ann, Who "On the mountain top would sing, Lo the sacred heralds stand." These girls and boys passed in and out of our old district school, And after such accomplishment were qualified to rule. Where are the old schoolmasters who taught us in those days. And merited the gratitude as well as honest praise Of all the parents who were bound to have some wholesome rule. Nor spare the rod to spoil the child attending district school. We remember with much pleasure our old teacher, Alden Chase, Who by his wit and wisdom came off conquerer in this place; 2Vic Chronicles of the Ellis. ij With a host of foes to battle, sagacious, strong and sage. Gaining a lasting victory at eighteen years of age. Where's mighty Mihill Mason who straightened out the school, When other methods seem to fail, took up his big ferule; And I am very certain we found out he had a way Of keeping law and order and catching rogues at play. And Benjamin F. Hutchins taught our school two winters more; We had to mind our P's and Q's or else stand in the floor; And when we cut up very bad he'd sit us with the boys, Not thinking we esteemed it one of our greatest joys. And Moody Rolfe taught us right well by wise and stable rule. And every one felt at the close a pleasant winter's school; And William Elliott wisely taught by methods new and old. That knowledge was a powerful thing worth more to us than gold; I've often heard my father say, and think he ought to know. He kept a model country school some fifty years ago. 14 Home Songs and Chro7iicles of the Ellis. Two winters in succession we had Francis Cushman Buck, Teaching with him was a hobby, he seemed to have the luck Of gaining both the good will of parents and schol- ars too; But pleasant seasons have an end, we had to say adieu. There came to us one Arthur Brown, a pleasant smil- ing man. We found in him a teacher kind, he had us under- stand That reading, writing, spelling, was the best work we could do, And figure our own problems and paddle our own canoe. What's become of H. N. Bolster who came up from the Cape, I think he taught but five whole days then made good his escape; And though we begged of him to stay and promised fair to be A worthy set of scholars; stay with us, no, not he. But turned his back upon the town with all its prom- ised joys For just the simple reason, those strapping girls and boys. The Chronicles of the Ellis. /j- Where are our old Schoolmistresses who used to board around, I think the most of them would say much pleasure they then found, Among the numerous families the Ellis used to grow, And long referred to those old times of fifty years ago. Where's Thirza Chapman, Mary Wight and Julia Ann Dudley, And Hannah Martin, Betsey Rolfe, Miss Sarah Prince of B,, And Susan Abbott, Hannah Rolfe and many more are they. Whose very names are household words e'en to the present day. Our summer or our winter schools, I know not which were best. We used to have such happy times when hunting for bird's nests, And climbing over fences for berries or for flowers. Or playing in the sparkling brooks heeding not the flying hours; And then again in winter's time, we had such keen delight. Both claim an equal share of praise, with me each one were bright. If we'd had half those gimcracks taught as in our schools today. Each boy had made a president, each girl a lady gay; l6 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. So many odds against us while running in the race, I think we all did fairly well to come off common- place; And could you call each one by name I think they'd let you know That life was worth the living some fifty years ago. What's become of the old schoolhouse that seemed just in its prime, That holds so much of pleasure through all this lapse of time; It's noble line of Teachers and Scholars holds us yet, Though we may never meet again we would not one forget; And I feel sad to tell you, don't call it, friends, a joke. Just fifty years ago this spring the old house went up in smoke. But the influence it exerted here will never pass away, It's teachings may have followed some, kept others in the way; Those girls and boys have learned we trust, to meet life's joys and ills, While toiling on their pilgrimage toward the sunset hills. And when I turn to those old scenes as I run to and fro, I wonder where the time has flown since fifty years ago. A Song to Sujiimcr. ly A SONG TO SUMMER. For the Ellis, Aug. 25, '95. EAUTIFUL Summer, canst thou not stay? Why dost thou hasten so quickly away; Did we not hold thee fond to our heart? Are we not grieving with thee to part? Beautiful Summer, stay with us, Oh stay; Lovingly linger we fervently pray, Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. Beautiful Summer, refreshing thy showers; Green are thy meadows, fragrant thy flowers. Fair are thy footsteps, hastening away, Fairest of seasons — canst thou not stay? Beautiful Summer, stay with us. Oh stay; Lovingly linger, we fervently pray, Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. Beautiful Summer, thy lessons w-e heed. No one is waiting to bid thee God speed; Thanks for thy favors of sunshine and showers, Thanks for thy mercies these sweet summer hours. Beautiful Summer, stay with us. Oh stay; Lovingly linger, we fervently pray, Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. Beautiful Summer, fond memory will keep Treasures of thee as the years onward sweep; Pictures of mountain, river and sky, Visions of earth scenes too lovely to die. Beautiful Summer, stay with us. Oh stay; Lovingly linger, we fervently pray. Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. i8 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. DECORATION DAY. i883. HOW many since last Decoration Day, Have borne a comrade or a friend away, And with the fragrant blossoms laid them low, Or made their bed beneath the fleecy snow. Some have been gathered like a shock of corn, Others cut down in life's bright joyous morn; Palace and cot alike have been bereft, There is no royal road for thee, O Death. We scatter o'er their graves the fairest flowers, A fitting emblem of this life of ours, Where roses bloom and wither in a day, And all that's mortal soon will pass away. Teach us, Oh Father, that we may resign Our every purpose to thy will divine; We know not who may go or who may stay. Or on whose grave our flowers may rest Next Decoration Day. THE OLD RED CRADLE. For the Ellis, 1897. FOR forty odd years the old red cradle Was stored in the garret at Orchard Hill; What to do with it seemed the vexed problem. What further use could a cradle fulfill. The Old Red Cradle. ig How proud must the parents have been with the first born, To build her a cradle of such ample size; But as time rolled along they found it were needful, For the family broadened with wondrous surprise. Oh, bright were the days when the dear old cradle Rocked fair daughters and sons from morn until eve; Except mother's arms the very best refuge, From the great host of troubles which little ones grieve. The cradle would well hold three or four children. And away they would rock now high and now low, Till the speed ran beyond the wisdom of childhood, When all of a sudden over they'd go. Oh the happiest days are the days of our childhood. With parents and sisters and brothers and friends; Not all of the gold of our far famed Alaska, Can for the loss of such gifts make amends. The parents that rocked it had gone to that country, From whose happy bourn no travelers return; And the old house is growing silent and lonely. For the fires on its hearthstone but dimly burn. The children had drifted out of the household, To seek their good fortunes or homes of their own; But the cradle was left high and dry in the garret. Battered and empty with the cobwebs alone. 20 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. The grandchildren stretching away in the distance, Despised the red cradle with its old fashioned grace, And all with one voice exclaimed, burn it, oh, burn it, I wouldn't give it the ghost of a place. Could any one bear to see an old cradle Go up in the flames by wanton hands set? I pray you desist for hearts may be aching, As they think of the old days with tears of regret. So we brought the old cradle down from it's hiding, And filled it with richest of earthly clays. And planted the fairest, sweetest of flowers. That bud and bloom all the long summer days. And there, should you drive up the lovely Ellis, And note each charming spot by the way, You would see the old cradle rocking, rocking The flowers to sleep at the close of day. And I sometimes think when our work is ended, And the shadows gather o'er hill and plain; It were sweet to feel the trust of childhood And be tenderly rocked to our sleep again. The Everlasting Hills. 21 THE EVERLASTING HILLS. Mrs. Gardiner Hoyt's Eightieth Birthday, Ellis River, Jan., 1897. IT LIFT mine eyes up to the hills today, 11 And think of earthly friends and kindred dear, And watch the shadows gently come and go. While toiling on in this, my eightieth year. A misty haze is spread before mine eyes, As I remember all the happy past. And all the pleasant scenes of childhood's days. Too bright and beautiful to always last. I lift mine eyes up to the hills again. And lo, another home is given to me; With husband, children and grandchildren, friends — While time rolls on to its vinending sea. Today I look away to these fair hills, And claim the promises found written there; And with my faltering steps and fading sight. Trust in my Heavenly Father's love and care. I lift mine eyes up to the hills for help. To guide me in my pilgrimage below; He will not suffer that my foot be moved, He will not slumber while I softly go. The sun shall not smite me by day. Nor yet the moon by night. The Lord from every evil shall preserve my soul, He shall preserve my going out and coming in, henceforth. While days and months and years shall o'er me roll. 22 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. So shall I walk in safety every day, Keeping mine eyes upon the heavenly hills; Claiming these promises as wholly mine, Not as I will, but as the dear Lord wills. THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. N. W. ELLIOTT. Lydia Carter, Rum ford. Ellis River, Oct. 4TH, 1893. THE leaves are growing red and gold Upon the maple trees; A gentle sighing seems to come Along the autumn's breeze. They whisper of departed days, Of bright and joyous spring. When everything seemed glad and free As birds upon the wing. We see a maiden young and fair. Stand by a flowing stream, Who looks with wonder on the scene, As in a pleasing dream. She hears a step beside the stream, A gallant, brave and bold. Who tells her in his happiest way A story new, yet old. I'he Golden Wedding. She listens — smiles, and soon we see Them walking hand in hand; Adown the rolling stream of time, Which seems enchanted land. Yet not alone, voices we hear Of children young and fair, And oft their merry, merry shout Would rise upon the air. The stream grows wider than at first, The trees are older grown; And still the gallant youth and maid Are slowly journeying on. They pass the Silver Bridge with care. Still hand in hand they go; Still watch the scenes upon the shores, That cheered them long ago. The Spring that once seemed very fair, Gives place to Summer time. And o'er their senses steals the truth. They are not in their prime. Voices that cheered them all the day. Have nearly all grown still; They hope to hear each voice again. And bow to Heaven's blest will. They follow still the winding stream, With all its changing ways, 24 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. Still walking ever side by side As in the olden days. They pause today at the Golden Bridge, That was fifty years away When a lover bold and a winsome maid Plighted their faith that day. And see! They are walking hand in hand, As in all the happy past; The way has grown lone, the stream grown deep. And shadows are backward cast. The friends of youth are passing away. The circle grows less every year; They send you kindest regards today, If they cannot be with you here. They know your way leads Heavenward, And the Golden Bridge no dream; And you have no fears in crossing o'er This wonderful, wonderful stream. We hope to see you many more years, Pass along hand in hand as of yore; Before the pale boatman shall call unto you To come out from your own cottage door. Then take our good wishes and happy be With what the Dear Lord has in store; And may this Golden Wedding Day prove His faithful love to you evermore. A Birthday Offering. 25 A BIRTHDAY OFFERING. To Our Friend, Mrs. M. J. Carter, Lawrence, Mass. Ellis River, Sept. 27, 1899. MY beautiful, beautiful Summer Is hurrying away, I can count the days that are left me On my right hand today; Count the days and say where have they flown, Since beautiful Spring-time came smiling along With her leaves and buds and blooms so sweet, And her creeping grass for my dainty feet. Oh, where have you gone with all your train, Shall I never behold your beauties again? My beautiful, beautiful Summer, No hour to me is lost; In memory are treasures fondly stored, Worth more than the simple cost, Of field and meadow, rocks, trees and hills, And the countless beauties one's vision fills. As the sunlight lingers over the place, And adds to each one a tender grace. And the grand old mountains bow low and say, "I wish you much joy on this happy day." My beautiful, beautiful Summer, Were my others just as fair With gentle Spring-time's lovely reign. And sweet enchanted air; With Summer days of pure delight. The songs of birds both day and night. 26 Home Songs a?ii/ Chronicles of the Ellis. The lovely drives along the way Where our own Ellis holds full sway, And beckons you with hook and line To catch a fish at any time, And gather up the fairest flowers To cheer you in the wintry hours. My beautiful, beautiful Summer Brings home to me alway An added year to my strict account; Life is not always May. I've seen sweet Spring and youth go by. With all my dear ones hovering nigh, 'Till now I count my seventy years — How short a space my life appears. Set down to me three score and ten; Let me recount my mercies, when I take a backward glance and see How my dear Lord is leading me. This beautiful, beautiful Summer, We bring our wishes true; And on this happy birthday Our friendships we renew. We love to have you with us, Your presence gives good cheer; God bless and keep and bring you Safe to our hearts next year; Our simple gifts are love, good will. To follow you along, until You reach life's golden sunset, where The friends you love may freely share The Heavenly peace and joy and rest, Knowing our Father's ways are best. My Birthday. 27 MY BIRTHDAY. ^N February, the 13th, 1893, A great event dropped down upon me, I celebrated my sixtieth birthday In my own unique, original way. I invited my sisters from far and near, And brothers to come and partake of the cheer, And all my first cousins drew up in a line To help me enjoy this birthday of mine. From the very first start I had my own way, Not a great thing I fancy for one little day. And through all the racket I had my sweet will, As well as the pleasure of paying the bill. The pleasure, you say, can hardly mean that; I think you will find the allusion quite pat. For I was brought up to pay as you go, If you have to cut down the expense of the show. Outside was a typical winter's day, Frosty with sunshine turning to gray; Inside you could sing another tune. For it seemed as fair as a day in June. A fire burned bright on the kitchen hearth. Where in olden time we held revel and mirth, And everyone seemed at their very best. And happily welcomed each coming guest. 28 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. The table was laid in due time with much skill, The dinner, though simple, three courses would fill, And when we were all invited to dine. After listening to grace we sang Auld Lang Syne. We ate and drank with hearty cheer, Some said they wished birthdays came twice a year When the three birthday cakes and sauces and pies Burst forth on the vision with wondrous surprise. We cracked nuts, and cracked jokes with old time fun. And we also considered ourselves fair and young, And would you believe when we brought the dessert Some matronly matrons attempted to flirt. But I brought them up short with a wave of my hand. And said, "My good friends you will please under- stand That I am not yet laid upon the shelf. If there must needs be fiirting, I'll do it myself. Allow me, dear friends, to make some little sign That you may remember this birthday of mine; Will the gentlemen present accept a clay pipe. And these lady friends a handkerchief white. And if your attention you now give to me, I will set in array that you may all see The many nice gifts that grew by the hour And filled a large table in my lady's bower. My Birthday. 2g Some you may remember, others sooner forget, The perfume of some in our mind lingers yet. Especially Evangeline, whose long search for a lover Is enjoyed by all true friends the wide world over. The fruit plates, vase, bon bons, all have a place, And a milk set my old fashioned table will grace. When I shall grow old and alas have to eat With a trembling hand — but why here repeat. The poems all told me, though guarded with care, I was still growing older and must be aware That sooner or later these bright hours would flee And leave me a clinging to the old ancestral tree." And so the hours went and with smiles on our face We lingered around the old fire place, And talked of the hopes and years gone by Till the hour of parting seemed drawing nigh. I tried to impress it on all their warm hearts. That for these happy hours they had all done their parts. And I hoped to meet them all often again. And join with them in some olden refrain. The day seemed too short, and the sun going fast When we gave our dear friends a warm handclasp, And said, "God bless you," as they drove slowly away, I will see you again on my ninetieth birthday. JO Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. THE FIRST ROBIN. ^AY after day I have heard the dear robins, Singing their songs in the orchard trees; Morning and evening their soft notes were calling, Or melting away with the passing breeze. Early this morning upon a high treetop, The first pretty robin I cunningly spied. His red breast was bathed in the glittering sunlight, And his happiest song for my pleasure he tried. Oh, robin, sweet robin, I cried out, delighted, Stay with us and cheer us with presence and song. And build your snug nest in some sheltering treetop, And dwell with your mate while the days roll along. CHILDREN'S DAY. D. S. HiBBERD, Student from Kansas. Ellis River, June 17, 1894. TIN many towns and cities far and near, 11 The children have one Sunday in the year. And while the summer days return again We meet to hold our very first. Way down in Rumford, Maine. Along the Ellis river, oh, how fair. The perfume of our wild flowers fill the air. The voices of the children low and sweet Blend in the song and praises we repeat. Children'' s Day. J I We thank our Heavenly Father for this day, And humbly ask His guidance all the way, We know not how to guide their feeble steps, But in the Book of Life His word directs. It may be possible our teacher here Has given us Children's Day for many a year, And while these faces with new pleasures glow ; June, with its roses, has no fairer show. A little effort, often, makes them gay And merry as a cricket all the day; Sometimes their words of wisdom us confound, When some perplexing question hovers round. We want today our very happiest songs And all good things which to the hour belongs. The brightest, sweetest flowers from woodland bowers, The kindest wishes of these hearts of ours. We hope some tiny seed may take deep root, Some tree be pruned to bear abundant fruit. That, as the years along our path may roll, The sheaves brought in may yield a hundred fold. If Sheba's Queen should haply pass this way. And see our Children's Sunday's first display, Would she not say the half was never told. When she beheld our flowers of shining gold. This happy day, oh, who would count it lost? Is it not worthy all the toil and cost? Onward and upward may it lead the way. And bring us nearer to the perfect day. J 2 Home So7igs afid Chronicles of the Ellis. We hope that everyone present to-day Some timely word may hear, and bear away A few live thoughts that may return again, May spring up broadcast, everywhere, From Kansas down to Maine. EASTER LILIES. Written for the Ellis, 1897. EASTER Lilies bud and bloom Close beside the empty tomb, Where an angel clothed in white Watches through the silent night. While they waited round with fear. While the women lingered near. "Fear not ye," the angel said, "He is risen from the dead; See, the stone is rolled awaj'. Come and see where the Lord lay." And the joyful song. Oh hear, He is risen — he is not here — He goeth before into Galilee, Follow on your Lord to see; He will meet you by the way, Worship at His feet today, Let your hearts be comforted. He is risen from the dead. Easter Lilies, bloom today. Let your perfume float away On the Easter morning air Like a sacrificial prayer. Childreii's Day and Harvest Concert. jj While we gather round the place To behold his smiling face, Hear them tell again He's risen And ascended into Heaven To His Father and our own, And before His gracious throne Pleads today for you and me, By the cross of Calvary. Dry your tear, lift up your eyes, Christ hath entered Paradise. Fairer than the lilies fair Are the crowns His followers wear, And today His triumph sing, He is risen, our Lord and King. CHILDREN'S DAY AND HARVEST CONCERT. Presenting a Vase with Flowers to J. B. Lyman, Student. Ellis River, Sept. 3, 1899. KEEP your vase filled with flowers as you journey along, That its fragrance may cheer you like som.e hallowed song; May their bright colors blend like the signal rain- bow, And the language they speak set your heart all aglow. Keep your vase filled with flowers, should the morn- ing look gray. J4 Ho7ne Son^^s and Chronicles of the Ellis. They will help drive dull care and sadness away; At all times or seasons should they fail to please, One resort is still waiting unlocked by Golden Keys. Keep your vase filled with flowers, time runs on to high noon. Life's bright golden morning flies away all too soon; And we falter and shrink and exclaim, Hitherto, And with renewed courage our journey pursue. Keep your vase filled with flowers, when the sun's lingering ray Falls over the world at the close of the day. Like the fragrance of flowers, its radiant light Lifts the heart up to God on the wings of the night. Keep your vase filled with flowers, you always may wear The Roses of Sharon wherever 3^our are; And the lilies in valleys with perfume most sweet, You may lay with life's trophies at the dear Master's feet. Keep your vase filled with flowers, Summer days will run by; You will seek other lands and perchance fairer sky, And the vales of the Ellis fade slowly from sight, Like the mist on the mountains in the sun's glorious lisht. Children's Day. jj CHILDREN'S DAY. At Ellis River, August 2, 1896. THE hope of the world is the children, Give them a happy hour; Bring all your brightest, sweetest flowers. From every woodland bower. And let the fragrance rich and rare Float out upon the Summer air. And fill this valley with delight. And linger on the faces bright Of the dear children gathered here, Who have been spared another year. God grant with us they long may stay. To cheer us on our pilgrim way, And on this happy day we sing. Bring all the little children in, For the hope of the world is the children, Gather, Oh gather them in. The hope of the world is the children. Give them your sweetest song, And tell them the pleasing story, Which to childhood's days belong, How the Saviour blessed the children As they sat upon his knee. Saying, "Let no one forbid them, Suffer them to come unto me. Whoso would be greatest among you Should be as a little child." Let us bring them all before Him, That they may receive His smile, jd Home Songs and Chronic/es of the ElUs. That His hand on their head in blessing May rest this very day, And all these little children Bear a happy song away. Let us join with them in singing Bring all the dear children in, For the hope of the world is the children, Gather, Oh gather them in. A year ago on Children's day, A mother stood by the open door With her little children by her side; She walks with us no more. We trust today with angel eyes She watches out from Paradise And smiles upon her children dear, Can we not feel her presence here? Can we not hear her gently say "Are all the children here today?" We miss the sunlight of her face, We miss her gentle, quiet grace. And bring with love memorial flowers To speak her worth in these glad hours. And for her dear ones let us pray They all be found in wisdom's way. And we remember year by year, The friends who gathered with us here On children's day. Our teachers kind Let us today bear them in mind. And whether east or west they stray. Send them our kind regards today. And for the friends and neighbors dear Easter Song. jy We are glad to see you always here, Your kind indulgence leads the way, Your presence gives to this glad day. Let us once more together sing Bring all the little children in. For the hope of the world is the children, Gather, Oh gather them in. EASTER SONG. March 25, 1894. ^HIS Cloth of Gold geranium came to me Christ- mas time, A gift of wondrous beauty still in its very prime, We have all enjoyed its presence through all our wintry way. And I've bro't it here to smile on you this happy Easter Day. We trust in every human life there is a Thread of Gold, Running in lines of beauty with blessings manifold. With power to scatter broadcast o'er these rough paths of ours, The brightness and the fragrance of life's most precious flowers. Flowers like kind words lift up the heart bowed down with grief or care, We feel their gentle presence floating upon the air, And when we see them budding and bursting into bloom, j8 Home Songs and Ckro?iicIes of the Ellis. They lead us to the garden beside the hallowed tomb. So when the loved disciples came to weep at break of day, From the door of the sepulchre the stone was rolled away, And an angel of the Lord was sitting, watching there, His countenance like lightning, his raiment white and fair. The angel answered the women and said to them, "Fear not ye, I know that ye seek Jesus who was crucified for thee. He is not here for He is risen. He from the grave is freed; And go quickly tell his disciples that He is risen in- deed. And behold He goeth before you into dear loved Galilee, And there shall ye all see Him, Lo I have told it thee." And they departed from the sepulchre with greatest joy and fear, And did run to bring his disciples word, saying, "Our Lord is surely here," And as they went to tell the news — behold Jesus met them, Saying, "All hail," and they came near and stood and worshipped Him. A lesson we may learn from this resurrection day, A dying risen Saviour can make light the darkest way, A FoM'th yiily Hymn. jg We need not go to Galilee to see our risen Lord, He is present where but two or three believe His gracious word, As he did comfort Mary so would He comfort us If we like loving Mary, in Him would simply trust. But we like doubting Thomas are unwilling to be- lieve That Christ for us is risen, and so we sit and grieve. Let us hope this blessed Easter, like the perfume of the flowers. May awake to life and beauty these human hearts of ours. A FOURTH JULY HYMN. Written By Request of J. C. Farnham. Ellis River, 1891, LORD of Hosts! To Thee we pray. For blessings on this joyful day; Fill every heart with grateful love, And peace which cometh from above. Wake in each soul a deep desire To love and cherish Freedom's fire Which burns and glows all o er our land. Held by a Father's gracious hand. Teach us to feel this land is ours. Our thoughts, our purposes and powers Should be devoted to its care. And all as one its blessings share. 40 Home Sotigs and Chronicles of the Ellis. May no false traitor lurk within, May we root out each hidden sin, And free our land from every stain, The drunkard's curse, the power of gain. We thank Thee for the hallowed past And what the present hour forecasts. And for the future trust Thy power To keep us in the trying hour. Bid sweet contentment come once more And rest beside each cottage door. And every subject loyal be To God which is true liberty. Lead, as of old, in Thine own way. By wondrous cloud day after day, And through earth's dark and gloomy night Still guide us with Thy flame of light. Bid us not rest nor stay our hand Till we shall reach the promised land. And at our Saviour's feet bow down And from His hand receive a crown. FOR THE CHILDREN. Christmas, Dec. 25, 1893. HAVE you seen the star, have you followed on To Bethlehem today.? Have you seen the manger rude and cold Where the Infant Jesus lay? Have you watched and waited at your post Your hearts with joy aflame, /// Memoriam. ^i And heard the songs of the Heavenly host Chant praises to his name? Have you seen the shepherds with their flocks Abiding safe by night, While the glory of the Lord shone round With a wondrous shining light, And heard the angels say to you, "Fear not, great joy I bring. For unto you is born this day A Saviour and a King." So let our Christmas songs arise On this bright happy day, Glory to God, peace on the earth, Good will to men we pray. IN MEMORIAM. July 1S84. WE know he closed his eyes one summer's day, And from his earthly home was borne away. Lifeless and silent of the passing throng. With whom he spent his fourscore years among, And laid to rest within the valley fair. Guarded by mountains hovering o'er it there, Like sentinels to watch his sweet repose Through Summer days and Winter's chilling snows. Though passed from sight he is not gone away. He walks again along life's olden way, His kindly voice we hear at eventide. Often he lingers by the warm fireside. His presence will be felt while here we roam And children o;ather round the dear old home. 42 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. SHE RESTS. November, 1882, iUT out the lights and let her rest Free from all earthly care, And bring your sweetest flowers to deck Her marble brow so fair. Put out the lights and let her rest, Her weary work is o'er; We trust she calmly, sweetly rests Safe on the other shore. Put out the lights, life's little day With us will soon be o'er. And we shall go to join the loved Where parting comes no more. "HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." Lines on the Death of Mrs. Augusta M. Howe, Ellis River, who Died Nov. ist, 1897. WAKE her not — she sweetly sleeps, — Hands folded o'er her breast; 'I'o weary days and anxious nights, O wake her not, — she rests. She rests from labor, and her works Will follow day by day; While on the wings of time the years Keep their appointed way. She was Young to Die. 43 O wake her not — her beckoning hand Will reach to every one Of her beloved household band, Pleading for them to come. O wake her not — we long shall miss From life's uncounted hours Her presence in her earthly home, Made sweet with summer flowers. O wake her not — we cannot know How soon our time may come, When we shall bid adieu to earth. And seek our Heavenly home. O wake her not — the Saviour saith, She is not dead — why weep? We give her to His loving care Of perfect rest, and sleep. SHE WAS YOUNG TO DIE. Mrs. Eva Howe Bacon, Hanover, Maine, Died Oct. 10, 1898. SO young to die, — so young and fair. We gaze upon her vacant chair. And think how could we let her go. When we all loved our darling so. So young to die, — and yet it seems, She lives again in our fond dreams; Sleeping or waking, she draws near. And calms our srief and dries our tear. 44 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. So young to die, — and yet we know She was the best prepared to go; And while we mourn with hearts opprest, We bow and say God's ways are best. So young to die, — she beckons you To that blest home she had in view; Where music sweet fills all the place With songs no human mind could trace. So young to die, — yet heaven was kind Our hearts to cheer — our eyes to blind, While gently leading down the vale Where oftentimes we shrinking quail. So young to die, — our loss her gain, No more to suffer grief or pain, But dwelling in a fairer land And beckoning still with loving hand. LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. Y. A. THURSTON. Ellis River, Oct. 19, 1895, AMID October's softly falling leaves. The Master comes to gather in His sheaves. His faithful messenger. Death, claims them all. And in our peaceful home spreads out his funeral pall. Lines on the Death of Mrs. Y. A. Thurston. 45 We shudder when we feel his chilling hand, His perfect right we cannot understand; And while he whispers to them sweet and low, We cling to them, we will not let them go. Like a swift arrow in a sunlit sky, Our hearts were pierced with sorrow's mournful cr}-; No human help or hope to us is left. We of a dear loved friend have been bereft. We bring with love the sympathizing tear For husband, children and the parents dear; Sister and brother share our mutual grief, With mingled tears our hearts will find relief. A universal sorrow fills the place Where she has moved with such a quiet grace; Long will her memory in our hearts be green, Long will her influence in her home be seen. We cannot know the Father's tender love, That called her to his blessed home above, . Where there shall be no night nor any pain, Oh happy thought, for them to die is gain. And in that happier, "Better Land," We'll meet them soon, again. 46 Home Sollies and C/ironicIes of the Ellis. LINES ON THE DEATH OF MR. CHAS. PROCTOR AND DAUGHTER, ROBERTA. A MOTHER sat weeping at the close of the day, For her husband and child had both passed away, And were now calmly sleeping their last earthly sleep. At the sight of such sorrow an angel might weep. For there, side by side, they lay cold in death, Even strangers beholding would fain hold their breath; And the dear children gathered in silence and tears. For their circle was broken in life's happy years. And dark was the night of their sorrow and gloom, For their father and sister must be borne to the tomb. And the mother in grief and anguish bowed low, While tears from her weeping eyes softly did flow, When she heard a voice speaking in accents so mild, "Daughter! Is it well with thee? Is it well with thy husband? Is it well with the child?" The mother raised her bowed head at hearing the voice. And the message so tender made her heart to rejoice. "Faint not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed. The God of the widow will give thee his aid. He a Father will be to thy children so dear. In the day of thy trouble he will ever be near. And the Comforter graciously waits to bestow On Visiting the Old Home. ^7 His blessing and help while you tarry below; And thy burden so heavy shall be lifted again, As homeward you journey midst suffering and pain, To meet all the loved ones who are gone on before, And will watch for your coming on that fairer shore." And the mother made answer and tenderly smiled, Saying, — "It is well with me, It is well wdth my husband. It is well with the child." ON VISITING THE OLD HOME. 'HE winds of October are softly blowing, Ov^er the mountains and over the plain. The maple leaves with bright colors are glowing, When shall I look on these loved scenes again. Years have passed by since I gazed on their beauty, Graves have been made in the valley so still; Life has grown fuller of care and of duty — Over them all I would wander at will. With a fond memory I'll hold them forever. Past and the present shall ever remain, Dreams of my childhood time cannot sever Though I may never behold them again. 4^ Home Songs and CJirouicles of Ihe Ellis. A GREETING FOR THE C. E. CONVENTION At Rumford Point, June 15, 1897. COME, for all things are ready, the fairest day of June Is waiting to receive you with all her wealth of bloom; And the richest of her treasure bestows with kindly grace, Like showers of blessings falling within this sacred place. Come, for all things are ready, our doors are open wide, We bring you cordial greeting from all this country side; Our ears are all attuned to hear the glad tidings you bring Of the stately goings forth today, for Christ and the Church we sing. Come, for all things are ready, let each one endeavor here, 'J'o do more earnest Christian work throughout the coming year; With faith and hope and charity inscribed upon our shield, The waysides and the stony fields may richer har- vests yield. Eightieth Birthday of Mrs. Mary Ford. 4g Come, for all things are ready, our lovely river here, Rises to this occasion and brings you happiest cheer; And we pray Heaven's richest blessing may rest on you today, And linger in fond memories when you are far away. Come, for all things are ready, long may this meet- ing be Remembered for its counsel sweet, its social unity; And we would say most gladly, as we take the part- ing hand, God bless and speed the Mission of our Christian Endeavor Band. EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF MRS. MARY FORD, RUMFORD POINT. Dec. 4, 1897. *HE year is swiftly hurrying on. With all its promise fair; E'en now I feel upon my cheek The keen December air. The May-day of life's joyous time, Hath flown on eagle wing. And left me here almost alone My plaintive song to sing. The Spring with all its bud and bloom Of flower, for me has gone; Save fondest hopes and happy hours. For me to dwell upon. JO Home Sotigs a?id Chronicles of the Ellis. Sweet Summer came to bless my life, With labors for my kind; And duties, plans of future years, For them were borne in mind. The Autumn with its ripened fruit Of life's most golden store, Was mine to pluck and gather in; Would I had garnered more. The Winter of my life has come. Like this December gray. Where with my family I keep My Eightieth birthday. I look out on my native hills, While tears bedew mine eyes; And pondering on life's toilsome way, How many mercies rise. And standing on life's outer bound, I stretch my hands and cry, "Dear Saviour, come and comfort me, Oh, hear my humble sigh. The way is dark, calm Thou my fears. And send a Heavenly ray. And let thy presence cheer my heart This Eightieth birthday." Silver Weddirig of Mr. and Mrs. J. K. Elliott, jz SILVER WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. J. K. ELLIOTT. LuciNDA G. Howe. Ellis River, Feb. 3, 1895. TH E happy chime of Silver Wedding bells, Ploat round the Ellis, and the mountain side; And tell us that the years have swiftly run By these dear friends, our bridegroom and his bride. We see them in the happy long ago, Striving to make home pleasant and serene; While year by year have lisping voices come To join the chorus of the household scene. Fair daughters and brave sons were added to The little group whom time had sore distressed; Mingling in one the current of their lives, Grown with the years more hopeful and more blessed. Their joys and sorrows we have freely shared, While journeying on these common county ways. And 'tis our prayer they with us long remain, To spend the evening of their pilgrim days. Our hearts rejoice while seasons come and go, So much of comfort, resignation, peace. Rests on this household and we humbly pray Heaven's choicest blessings may with years in- crease. And to the Father's care we now commend These loving friends forever and a day. We hope to meet them in some fairer clime. When all earth's changes shall have passed away. 52 Home Songs and Chrofiicles of the Ellis. RECEPTION GIVEN D. C. WOOD. Ellis River, Aug. 29, 1892. THE field was Rumford, and the Master set His servant in the northern part of it, To labor in his vineyard day by day, While all the Summer hours should pass away. He bade the servant for the work prepare, To put the armor on with many a care, To wrestle in the conflict for the right And all the works of darkness put to flight. And thus prepared, in flush of early youth. Having the loins girded about with truth, With the breast-plate of righteousness secure. That to the end the servant might endure. The feet well shod, the labor to increase. With preparations of the gospel peace; Above all taking the shield of faith To quench the fiery darts that fly beneath. And take the helmet of salvation true, The head to shield from heat, and danger too; And with the sword of the spirit in the hand. Which is the Word of God — equipt to stand. And praying always with all fervent prayer And supplications for the Father's care. To bless the work and lead the servant on. To make the mystery of this gospel known. Reception gtvefi B. C. Wood. 53 The servant came, — a student from the school; No doubt he brought with him the golden rule, And chart and compass from the Master's hand, That he might enter and possess the land. He ran his eye along the northern gate, And to himself he said, "I need not wait; The Master told me there was much to do. The time was short, the laborers were few. "Til move these thorns and briars from the way Lest they give trouble in the coming day; And dig along this hedge at early dawn. And scatter here some seeds of wheat and corn. "This little tree with branches bending low, I'll trim with care, that it may stronger grow, So that the happy birds may build a nest And rear their brood in peace and quietness. "This dark old corner with its choking vines. Shall be renewed with pleasant curving lines. And goodly seed be sown with liberal hand. That long may bud and blossom in the land. "This grove of trees close by the vineyard wall, So full of leaves and branches, strong and tall, Shall feel my fostering care from day to day Till they shall wondrous symmetry display. "This little stream that runs so calm and still, I'll clear of sticks and stones so that it will Run with glad haste and sing a happy song To cheer the weary heart while toiling on. ^4 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. "This gnarled old oak whose branches towering high Defy the wintry winds with groan and sigh, Shall feel the pruning knife about its roots, That it again may send out vigorous shoots. "This gray old rock, half hidden in the mire, Shall feel the power of the refiner's fire, And stand a monument forever more, And tell the Master's victory o'er and o'er. "These vineyard walls need strength; my feeble hand Cannot protect this pleasant smiling land; The Master's hand alone can hold it fast. While days and years run swiftly, hurrying past." The Summer waned, and in the twilight late The servant stood beside the vineyard gate; His head was bare, his hand seemed outstretched o'er, As if a blessing he would still implore To rest upon them and with them abide. — He turned and saw the Master by his side. He bowed his head, and pointing o'er the land. Said, "My dear Master, thou must understand." No other words he sought out to repeat, But humbly fell down at the Master's feet. The Master laid His hand upon his head, And said, "My son, be thou much comforted; Thou hast well done, the seed you scattered free May bear fourfold of richest grain for me. Decoration Day. S5 "Perchance you may return another year And gather in the full corn in the ear; Perchance on other Summer's dewy eves You'll come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves. A Paul may plant, Apollos water free. But God alone can give the victory." He arose, and gazed upon the evening fair, And in the stillness breathed a fervent prayer; And when he came back to the room apace, A smile still lingered on his thoughtful face; And all the people said he must have seen Visions of angels, or a waking dream. He only said, "My friends, I go away. But the dear Master will forever stay; He is the best, the dearest, truest friend. His love to all I freely would commend." And at the Throne of Mercy may we plead For strength and courage, while we say Godspeed, And God be with -you, till we meet again. Be our farewell, our tender, sad refrain. DECORATION DAY. RuMFORD Point, May 30, 1894. ENEATH the smiling skies of May, Our flag floats to the breeze; Where Rumford greets her gallant sons Beside her native trees. ^6 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. The whispering pines their stories tell To comrades gathered here; To some they bring a happy smile, To others memories dear. The river murmurs as it flows A song of love and peace, And bears them to a happier land Where wars and tumults cease. The martial strains fall on the ear, With tender sad refrain; The mountains take the echoes up, And send them back again. The sire, the grandsire and the son, And matrons grave and gay. And maidens fair and laughing child, God speed them on their way. They scatter o'er each comrade's bed May's brightest, sweetest flowers. And speak with tender, cheering words Through all the passing hours. Year after year the hand of time Falls softly on each brow; Those youthful heroes of the wars Are bearded veterans, now. Their comrades sleep in every land, From east to western shore; Today in peace, hand clasped in hand. They scatter flowers once more. The Message. S7 And tell of all the noble deeds, Of fathers, brothers, sons; And on whose field the deadliest fight. And greatest victory won. The Great Commander leads the march. Forward the battle cry; The answer comes along the line, Ready to do or die. w THE MESSAGE. 'HAT message from the Master hast thou brought That shall lift up our waiting hearts today ; What miracle the Saviour's hand hath wrought Leads us to humbly worship and to pray. What precept and example canst thou bring That gives us strength and courage to go on — What better friend — surely none can be found Than this we read of — His beloved Son. All times and places are the records true, He loved the world so well His life he gave. This is the message I have brought to you, He lived and died, your precious souls to save. Will you not take the message sent from heaven, There is none other name among men given. Oh, come and welcome — Yea this very hour Come and accept, believe and be forgiven. j