 | The epic of Columbus' bell and other poems |  |
60
TO THE MEMORY OF REV. A. F. JACKSON, D. D.
At noon of life, with ebon strands
Unmingled with the frost of Time,
In peaceful folds he lays his hands,
And seeks the pure celestial clime,
Where greetings sung by cherubim,
Who bore his crown, were waiting him.
Unmingled with the frost of Time,
In peaceful folds he lays his hands,
This poem was written on reading of the assassination of our friend, Rev. A. F. Jackson, D. D., at Dallas, Texas, on December 12, 1889. We made his acquaintance while teaching school at San Antonio, Texas, 1886–1887, where he was the pastor of the A. M. E. Church. He was a scholarly gentleman, an exemplary Christian and a pastor loved of a host of friends.
And seeks the pure celestial clime,
Where greetings sung by cherubim,
Who bore his crown, were waiting him.
The loving voice that praises sung,
The music warm 'neath heaving breast;
That rings no more his friends among,
This cold, unstrung, has sunk to rest—
How sad in life's full bloom to fall,
Pierced sudden by a ruthless ball!
The music warm 'neath heaving breast;
That rings no more his friends among,
This cold, unstrung, has sunk to rest—
How sad in life's full bloom to fall,
Pierced sudden by a ruthless ball!
Him, while he lived, the people loved,
For he was shepherd of a fold;
Which way soever they had roved,
Or far, or near, or young or old,
His was the care the watch to keep,
And gather in his Master's sheep.
For he was shepherd of a fold;
Which way soever they had roved,
Or far, or near, or young or old,
His was the care the watch to keep,
And gather in his Master's sheep.
61
The body sleeps, he is not dead,
Again it mingles with the dust;
But Heavenward his soul has fled,
To realms where he had placed his trust.
Angels, aware his work was done,
Sang, “Welcome home, thou faithful one!”
Again it mingles with the dust;
But Heavenward his soul has fled,
To realms where he had placed his trust.
Angels, aware his work was done,
Sang, “Welcome home, thou faithful one!”
Above thy cold and silent clay,
And to thy memory and worth,
This tribute of my verse I pay,
To mark our friendship here on earth.
Oh, how we rue thy tragic end!
Peace be with thee, lamented friend!
And to thy memory and worth,
This tribute of my verse I pay,
To mark our friendship here on earth.
Oh, how we rue thy tragic end!
Peace be with thee, lamented friend!
| The epic of Columbus' bell and other poems | |