 | Poems of home and country |  |
222
THE AGED PASTOR.
TO REV. C. A. THOMAS, D. D., BRANDON, VT.
Hail, pastor! with thy honored brow
And age's silver head;
What memories of the loved and lost,
The living and the dead,
Crowd on the thoughts, as time recalls
The scenes of earlier years,
Weaving, like flowers with autumn leaves,
Garlands of joy and tears!
And age's silver head;
What memories of the loved and lost,
The living and the dead,
Crowd on the thoughts, as time recalls
The scenes of earlier years,
Weaving, like flowers with autumn leaves,
Garlands of joy and tears!
How forty years of life have made
Familiar faces strange!
While history with her pen records
How men and landscapes change;
And near twice forty years, thy steps,
The wreath of cloud and flame
Has led, alternate, proving still
Thy covenant, God, the same.
Familiar faces strange!
While history with her pen records
How men and landscapes change;
And near twice forty years, thy steps,
The wreath of cloud and flame
Has led, alternate, proving still
Thy covenant, God, the same.
Hail, pastor! though the years have sped,
Faithful and trusted still;
Trusted, on life's ascending slope,
Faithful, as slants the hill
Declining westward, where the sun
Turns toward the light of even,
And rests among the pillared clouds,
The gateways into heaven.
Faithful and trusted still;
Trusted, on life's ascending slope,
Faithful, as slants the hill
Declining westward, where the sun
Turns toward the light of even,
And rests among the pillared clouds,
The gateways into heaven.
223
We bring no formal incense here;
We speak no empty praise;
We hang not on the grand old oak,
A wreath of heartless bays,—
While thankful memory wanders back
Through all the growing years,
And eyes the busy world has dazed,
Are dimmed with grateful tears.
We speak no empty praise;
We hang not on the grand old oak,
A wreath of heartless bays,—
While thankful memory wanders back
Through all the growing years,
And eyes the busy world has dazed,
Are dimmed with grateful tears.
The wide career our feet have trod;
The tasks of duty done;
The conquered fields, the harvests gained;
The laurels sought and won,—
Are but his life, whose lips have taught
Lessons of love and truth,
Embodied in our riper days,
Taught in our tender youth.
The tasks of duty done;
The conquered fields, the harvests gained;
The laurels sought and won,—
Are but his life, whose lips have taught
Lessons of love and truth,
Embodied in our riper days,
Taught in our tender youth.
And he whose lips and life alike
Inspired us to be men,
Enshrined in Time's slow-gathering years,
Shall live and move again,
As sculptured bust or painted form,
The boast of ancient days,
Transmitted through all ages, still
Lives for a joy and praise.
Inspired us to be men,
Enshrined in Time's slow-gathering years,
Shall live and move again,
As sculptured bust or painted form,
The boast of ancient days,
Transmitted through all ages, still
Lives for a joy and praise.
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