{"1": {"fulltext": "3515\\n1484\\nr\\n100\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00bapy 1\\nr\\\\\\nBOOK or POEMS\\nBV\\nMRS. NANNIE P. HANCOCK.", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "j J^ v^^^/^reijti^ p-0-tyv\\\\ Oryx.\\nA\\nBOOK or POEMS\\nMrs. Nannie P. Hancock\\n1900\\nPRESS OF\\nStone Ptg- and Mfg. Co.\\nRoanoke, Va,\\nV.", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "19;\\ni /G\\nTS3S-IS\\nA4g4B 7\\n9 o o\\nLibrary of Conqreoa\\nTwo Copies Received\\nJUL 13 1900\\nCopyright \u00e2\u0080\u00a2ntry\\nSECOND COPY.\\nDi-fivei\u00c2\u00abd In\\nOHDh\u00c2\u00ab OIVlSiON,\\nJUL 16 1900\\n65824", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "Introduction.\\n(JTTTHE generous public will, I trust, pardon me for in-\\n^^i? troducing myself and this little volume to the world.\\nI, Nannie P. Hancock, was born in Patrick County,\\nVirginia, July 14th, 1857. My parents were Jabez T. and\\nKuth Emerson. When I was only seven years old my\\nfather died from the effects of a deep cold, contracted while\\nserving in the war between the States, leaving me virtually\\nan orphan of the Confederacy. His death, of course,\\nmaterially affected my childhood and rendered my future\\nprospects less hopeful. I was given the best of moral in-\\nstruction by a pious mother, and received a limited educa-\\ntion in the free schools of Virginia.\\nI shall ever feel grateful to such proficient teachers as\\nJudy Peyton Eoss, Mrs. Pencie J. Preston, Miss Mary\\nMoir, Miss Mary Jefferson (now Mrs. John T. West),\\nand others, who proved not only competent instructors, but\\nfaithful friends, and who strove to make out a plan for my\\nsuccess.\\nIt is, perhaps, just to my mother s family (the Price\\nfamily) to say that for several generations there seems to\\nhave been a gift for verse-making among them, although,\\nlike the poets described by Byron, they have never penned\\ntheir inspirations.\\nBeing, as I was, of a very delicate constitution, the\\ntrials and hardships incident to the life of an orphan fell\\nvery heavily upon me consequently, the bloom of my\\nyouth and riper years of womanhood passed away, and my\\nname was still unknown to the literary world. I often felt\\nthe force of the beautiful lines written by the Poet Gray\\nFull many a gem of purest ray serene,\\nThe dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;\\nFull many a flower is born to blush unseen\\nAnd waste its sweetness on the desert air.", "height": "3171", "width": "1923", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "In the 5 ear 1894 I was visited by Rev. P. B. Hylton,\\nof Ballard, Virginia, and was advised by him to dig up\\nwhat was called by him my buried talent, and use it for\\nthe benefit of others. This led to the publication of\\nnumerous poems in the public prints. I omit to say that I\\nwas married to W. J. Hancock, December 16th, 1886.\\nOur three children now play around me. To them I dedi-\\ncate this little book, hoping that the sale of it may prove a\\nfactor in their education and help to launch their tiny\\ncrafts on the mystic ocean of life.\\nAlthough afflicted, I try to exercise a spirit of sub-\\nmissive endurance, knowing that all things work together\\nfor good to them that love the Lord.\\nHow sweet, though Fortune s fickle hand\\nMay seem to deal unfair,\\nTo have the doctrine of the cross\\nTo shield us from despair.\\nNannie P. Hancock.", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nIntroduction 7\\nSketch of Early Family History 9\\nThe Author s Prayer for Divine Guidance 11\\nAn Invalid s View 12\\nMy Morning Walk 13\\nEevelations xiv 13 15\\nThe Evening Dew 16\\nKindness 17\\nGospel Compass 18\\nThe Dying Advice 19\\nMamma s Sermons 20\\nThe Coming Spring 21\\nGrandma s Kehearsal 22\\nChristian Experience 23\\nThe Sweetest Girls 25\\nA Word of Prayer for the Danville District 26\\nThe Emblematic Evergreen 27\\nChrist in the Garden 28\\nThe Wounded Lark 29\\nThe Old Playground 30\\nJesus Wept 31\\nAn Infant s Grave 32\\nThe Kiss of Judas 33\\nPassage of the Potomac through the Blue Eidge 34\\nMy Mountain View 35\\nMisfortune Will Not Bring Disgrace 36\\nGeography of Life 37\\nThere is no Morrow 38\\nThe Voice of the Kill 39\\nOur Solar System 40", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "Christ a Pattern of True Humility 41\\nA Christmas Poem 42\\nThe Three P s 43\\nNaval Battle in Manila Bay 44\\nThree Keasons for Patriotism 45\\nThe Kagged Robe 46\\nMother s Grave 47\\nAutumn Leaves 48\\nPoetical Prayer for the United States 49\\nThe New Moon 50\\nTis the Last Red Rose of Summer 51\\nA New Year s Poem 52\\nLines on the Death of Mrs. Ruth Emerson 53\\nThe Sin of Mother Eve 54\\nWork Begun in Prayer is Apt to End in Praise 56\\nThe Pipe of Peace 57\\nThe Rainbow 58\\nThe Partridge 59\\nThe Colors of Our Flag 60\\nLee and Jackson 61\\nLines Composed from the Last Words of Miss Mary Light 62\\nThe Christian s Help in Time of Trouble 63\\nAdvice to Wayward Children 64\\nThe Oblong Oven 65\\nThe Whippoorwill 66\\nThe Honey Bee 67\\nA Prayer for Temperance 68\\nLines on the Life of W. F. B. Taylor 69\\nThe Christian Warfare 70\\nWeek-Day Piety 71\\nMadam Rumor 72\\nPoetical Prayer for Orphans of the Danville District 73\\nMother s Meditation 74", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "SKETCH OF EARLY FAMILY HISTORY.\\nWe ve thought the merry butterflies\\nThat flit among the flowers,\\nAre not more happy than were we\\nIn early childhood hours.\\nBut soon, alas there came a change.\\nThe first of grief we knew.\\nWas when the coffin cover hid\\nOur sister from our view.\\nOur father s health was in decline,\\nWhen sister passed away;\\nAnd soon t was evident to all\\nThat here he could not stay.\\nOne night we woke to find his form\\nWrapped in a winding sheet.\\nAnd tapers dimly burning at\\nHis head and near his feet.\\nWe wept, though friends for comfort said,\\nYour father is at rest,\\nOur widowed mother mourned her loss\\nWe orphans were distressed.\\nTo bear our many griefs aright,\\nAlthough bereaved, we tried;\\nBut soon our sorrows woke afresh,\\nWhen little brother died.", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "Thus father and two children went,\\nTo try the world unknown\\nWhile sister and myself were reared\\nBy mother all alone.\\nWe often o er these bygone years,\\nA backward glance extend,\\nAnd ofifer up our thanks to God,\\nThe lonely orphan s friend.\\n10", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "THE AUTHOR S PRAYER FOR DIVINE\\nGUIDANCE.\\nThou God of love and mercy, we\\nMost humbly look for aid to Thee.\\nIf we ve a work or mission here,\\nBe pleased to make our duty clear.\\nIf we our feeble lays must sing,\\nOur shattered harp repair and string;\\nAttune afresh our quivering lyre,\\nAnd help us raise our sonnets higher.\\nThy heavenly muses hovered o er\\nPope, Homer, Milton, Scott and Moore\\nTheir lofty harps divinely strung,\\nFor us immortal anthems sung.\\nIf thus with love Thou didst baptize,\\nAnd make Thy former poets wise,\\nThou still, we hope, wilt blessing send\\nTo those who on Thy strength depend.\\n11", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "AN INVALID S VIEW.\\nDeclining health is warning me\\nTo make my calling sure\\nTo trim my lamp and ready be,\\nAnd to the end endure.\\nFor at a not far distant day,\\nI view the trying hour,\\nWhen I shall meet death hand to hand.\\nAnd grapple with his power.\\nI sometimes hope that I shall be\\nReleased from pain and strife.\\nWhen I have gone through sorrow down\\nThe avenue of life.\\nA brilliant luster from the cross\\nAlone can light the road,\\nAs we traverse the barren strand.\\nTo Jordan s stormy ford.\\nBut if the pearl of precious worth,\\nIs made by faith my own,\\nMy soul shall bask in rays of love.\\nBefore the shining throne.\\n12", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "MY MORNING WALK.\\nOne morning in the month of May,\\nWhen all the world was bright,\\nI wandered forth among the flowers,\\nWhich gave my soul delight.\\nThe bee sipped nectar from the blooms,\\nThe mock-bird sang his lay,\\nAnd all the world seemed fair and bright.\\nThat lovely morn in May.\\nIn the impressive solitude,\\nI thought of youth s gay hours,\\nAnd of the opening path of life.\\nSo often strewn with flowers.\\nYet, as I plucked a thorny rose.\\nThe thought it brought to mind.\\nThat on life s road we may expect\\nCorroding thorns to find.\\nAnd as the petals of the rose\\nUpon the ground must lie,\\nSo many an ardent youthful hope\\nIn after years must die.\\nHow flitting are our childhood hours\\nHow soon they pass away\\nOur transient Summer days give place\\nTo Autumn s dim decay.\\n13", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "How wise are they who yield their hearts\\nTo God in youthful prime,\\nAnd ever spend their after years\\nIn efforts all sublime.\\nThough flowers may fade and piercing thorns\\nAbound on every side,\\nThe Rose of Sharon shall with them\\nForevermore abide.\\n14", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "REVELATION XJV 13.\\nSt. John, while on the Patmos Isle,\\nLed by the Spirit all the while,\\nPermitted was to know and see\\nThe bliss divine which dwells with Thee.\\nAnd others, since his day and time,\\nHave written on this theme sublime\\nStill pens nor tongues have e er expressed,\\nThe glories of Thy promised rest.\\nBlessed are the dead that in Thee die\\nTheir labor done their spirits fly\\nTo realms of bliss, of light and 4ove,\\nTo dwell with Christ and saints above.\\nCould mortals here but understand\\nThe rest prepared at God s right hand.\\nThe chorus of all hearts would be,\\nBless d the dead that die in Thee.\\n15", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "THE EVENING DEW.\\nHow wondrous are the works of God\\nHow charming Nature s views\\nHow lovely are the gardens when\\nEmbalmed with evening dews.\\nThe landscape tells His wonders great,\\nThe flowers His love disclose\\nT is He who with the dewdrop decks\\nThe petals of the rose.\\nThe dews of evening symbolize\\nThe Holy Spirit s power,\\nWhich resteth on the trusting heart,\\nLike dewdrops on a flower.\\nYet all unlike the evening dews,\\nWhich vapors waft away,\\nThe sacred dews of grace shall with\\nThe trusting spirit stay.\\nThen when the night of death is near.\\nMay the Lord in love diffuse,\\nHis blissful spirit on our hearts,\\nLike gentle evening dews.\\n16", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "KINDNESS.\\nA gentle smile, when we are sad,\\nDoth tend to cheer and make us glad\\nA kindly word, a loving tone.\\nDoes much to comfort those who mourn.\\nWords of kindness little cost.\\nAnd deeds of kindness are not lost\\nFor if we serve in little things,\\nIt to the suffering solace brings.\\nWhen one from any cause is sad,\\nT is not enough to say T is bad,\\nOr in a scornful tone to chide.\\nOr silently to turn aside\\nNay, we our brother s woe should feel,\\nHis broken spirit strive to heal\\nShould seek to give him some relief.\\nOr share with him his pain and grief.\\nThough life is fraught with many a care.\\nIt still behooves us to beware.\\nAnd strive at every time and place.\\nTo show a gentle, cheerful face.\\n17", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "THE GOSPEL COMPASS.\\nThe needle pointeth to the pole,\\nWhile angry waves of ocean roll,\\nThe storm-tossed seaman s bark to guide\\nAright in time of wind and tide.\\nSo God, in wisdom, hath designed\\nA needle true for human kind\\nBy light of faith His saints can view,\\nHis Word, their compass, tried and true.\\nThen, oh my soul, when storms arise.\\nWhen clouds and darkness veil thy skies,\\nLet God s sure Word thy compass be.\\nUpon life s dark and wintry sea.\\nWhen near the haven of our home.\\nThough sorrows billows seethe and foam,\\nGod s Word, our compass, shall not fail\\nAs through the gates of death we sail.\\nWhen all these trying scenes are passed.\\nWhen anchored safely home at last.\\nWe 11 praise the love that first designed\\nThe gospel compass for mankind.\\n18", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "DYING ADVICE.\\nMRS. BETTIE ROSS TO HER CHILDREN.\\nDear children, now that death is near,\\nAnd I must soon depart,\\nA deep soHcitude for you\\nStill presses on my heart.\\nTo you I Ve often talked and read\\nOf Christ, the living Way.\\nThis consolation of my life\\nIs now in death my stay.\\nThe Holy Spirit s pleading power,\\nDear children, early heed\\nAnd seek the pardoning grace of God,\\nWhich helpless mortals need.\\nForever shun the sinful snares.\\nThat lead the soul astray\\nAnd humbly seek for strength to tread\\nIn wisdom s narrow v/ay.\\nMy feeble, dying breath I spend\\nIn one incessant prayer\\nThat God will take me home to rest,\\nAnd you may meet me there.\\n19", "height": "3171", "width": "1890", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "HAnriA S SERflONS.\\nMa s pulpit was an old armchair\\nFrom this she often did declare,\\nUnto an audience of seven,\\nThe Scripture truths bout Christ and heaven\\nWhich would excite an interest\\nIn every tender youthful breast.\\nShe taught us of the fall of man,\\nThen read to us Salvation s plan\\nBy whom achieved she showed us plain.\\nAnd how His help, through prayer to gain\\nForgetting not the Holy Ghost,\\nWhose aid in prayer doth strengthen most.\\nShe told us in her gentle way.\\nAbout the coming judgment-day,\\nAnd that our lamps should burning be\\nWhen called into eternity.\\nThese solemn words which mamma said,\\nEngaged each youthful heart and head.\\nSam Jones, the great revival man,\\nWe ve heard declare Christ s gospel plan\\nWe ve listened to Schoolfield and Lee,\\nWith reverence and humility.\\nYet still our hearts a preference bear,\\nFor sermons from ma s old armchair.\\n20", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "THE COniNQ SPRING.\\nNever is my heart so light,\\nAnd never are my hopes so bright\\nAs when the birds, in early spring,\\nFirst begin to coo and sing.\\nO, how I long to see the hours.\\nWhen bees shall hum among the flowers\\nAnd I can hear the notes I love\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nI mean the gentle cooing dove.\\nBirds and bees and tangled flowers,\\nDo much to cheer our lonely hours\\nThey soothe our griefs, and lend a charm\\nTo country life upon the farm.\\nThen may the sunshine come again,\\nTo chase away the clouds and rain,\\nAnd warm the earth so prospects bright\\nMay fill us with serene delight.\\n21", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "GRANDMA S REHEARSAL.\\nTeardrops show through grandma s glasses,\\nThough her spirit tranquil seems,\\nAs she speaks to us of childhood,\\nAnd of love s delightful dreams.\\nOnce I was a child, says grandma,\\nThen I ran and played like you.\\nWhile my gay, untarnished vision\\nBrought no sorrow to my view.\\nWhen I grew to be a woman,\\nI was taught the sacred truth\\nWe should serve our great Creator,\\nIn the sunny days of youth.\\nGrandma s tears from neath her glasses.\\nThickly fall upon the ground.\\nAs she speaks of pardoning mercy.\\nWhich she early sought and found\\nAnd she tells us of our grandpa.\\nSmitten by her youthful charms\\nOf the marriage and of mamma,\\nOnce a babe in grandma s arms.\\nGrandma, in her tenderest language.\\nSpeaks to us of olden times,\\nEre the angel called our grandpa\\nFrom the earth to fairer climes.\\nI am waiting, says our grandma,\\nDeath can bring no great surprise\\nWatching, praying, for the angels,\\nTo conduct me to the skies.\\n09", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE.\\nI never, never have forgot,\\nThrough all these weary years.\\nThe days when first, I trust, were shed\\nMy penitential tears.\\nA something which I can t describe\\nThe seeds of mercy sown.\\nOr pressure of the spirit s power,\\nMade my condition known.\\nIt was the springtime of my life.\\nWhen roses round us bloom;\\nYet when I saw myself the view,\\nO ershadowed all in gloom\\nI saw my soul for sin condemned.\\nAnd felt that I must go,\\nWhen called, to dwell among the lost,\\nIn endless wrath and woe.\\nFor though the burden of my guilt\\nLay heavy on my mind,\\nI did not know that they who mourn\\nMay comfort seek and find.\\nYet later, when again I sought\\nThe Holy Spirit s aid.\\nIt seemed that Christ unto my soul\\nHis pardoning love portrayed.\\n23", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "These strong convictions now were gone\\nMy heart it felt no pain,\\nAnd I could not believe that I\\nShould suffer here again.\\nThough life has been a warfare since\\nThis journey I begun,\\nI hope to have sustaining grace,\\nUntil my race is run.\\n24", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "THE SWEETEST GIRLS.\\nGirls of rank or noble birth\\nAre not perhaps the best on earth\\nFor birth and rank can naught avail,\\nIf they in pleasant manners fail,\\nAnd make it not their foremost thought\\nTo be at home just what they ought.\\nIn early youth, while hopes are bright.\\nWhat girl a mother s wish can slight,\\nOr ever dare to disobey\\nWhat loving parents kindly say?\\nHow sad when girls by tempers ill,\\nTheir parents hearts with sorrow fill\\nHow wise are those who daily seek,\\nTo cultivate a spirit meek.\\nWhich shall in after life secure\\nThem happiness, which will endure.\\nYea, they a recompense shall find.\\nWho, while at home, are true and kind.\\nThe sweetest girls we Ve ever met,\\nAre those who never do forget\\nTheir parents wishes to obey\\nAnd serve them kindly every day\\nThough they may be of humble birth.\\nThey are the sweetest girls on earth.\\n25", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "A WORD OF PRAYER FOR THE DANVILLE\\nDISTRICT.\\nThou God of love, of light and truth,\\nThe Pilot of the feet of youth;\\nOur Guide and Guard on every stage\\nOf life from youth to ripe old age\\nWe, of the Danville District, now,\\nCollectively before Thee bow\\nWilt thou not cleanse and purify\\nThy people who to Thee draw nigh?\\nAs we do have a name to live,\\nWilt Thou Thy vital spirit give,\\nThat, dead to sin, alive to Thee,\\nWe may Thy favored people be?\\nGood works, O Lord, may we effect,\\nAs Thou in wisdom shalt direct\\nAnd may the light of love divine\\nForever on our district shine.\\n26", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "THE EMBLEMATIC EVERGREEN.\\nOf all the lovely things that grow,\\nThe sweetest plant of which I know,\\nAmong the many herbs I Ve seen,\\nIs winter s sturdy evergreen.\\nThough chilling winds upon it blow,\\nIt bravely bears the sleet and snow.\\nThe rose and pink may bring delight.\\nWhen weather s fair and skies are bright\\nThe daisy and the lily, too,\\nMy add a charm to every view\\nYet they, unlike the evergreen.\\nOn wintry days can not be seen.\\nThese plants of nature, to my mind.\\nAre emblems of the friends we find\\nSome seem sincere when all is fair\\nWhen trouble comes they are not there\\nWhile others near us still are seen^\\nUnchanging as the evergreen.\\n27", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "CHRIST IN THE GARDEN.\\nSweet garden of Gethsemane,\\nThy sacred sod I ne er shall see,\\nYet oft have I in fancy been\\nWhere Jesus agonized for sin.\\nWhile in this garden Jesus knelt,\\nWhat throes of grief His spirit felt\\nThe woes He knew no tongue can tell,\\nAs on the ground His blooddrops fell.\\nNo language can express aright,\\nThe silent sadness of that night\\nWhen Christ His lonely vigil kept,\\nWhile His disciples near Him slept.\\nStill all who bear His holy name,\\nWho feel their souls with love aflame.\\nMust to this garden sometime go,\\nAnd share their Saviour s mental woe.\\nYet when the saints are deeply tried,\\nMay Jesus strength for them provide.\\nAnd angels near to quell their woes,\\nTheir blissful presence them disclose.\\n28", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "THE WOUNDED LARK.\\nOnce a wounded lark I found\\nT was fluttering helpless on the ground.\\nThough oft it made a mournful cry,\\nIt seemed no help for it was nigh.\\nThe lark no more could fly and sing.\\nIt tried in vain to raise its wing\\nThe fractured member kept it bound,\\nThough all unwilling, to the ground.\\nWe trace a mournful emblem here.\\nAnd o er the lark we drop a tear;\\nFor many born to soar afar\\nBy circumstances wounded are.\\nTheir noble powers must dormant lie\\nThey flutter, yet they can not fly.\\nThus maimed, perchance they die alone,\\nEre they the world their gifts have shown.\\nStill aspirations hampered down,\\nAs was the crippled lark I found.\\nShould teach our hearts to patient be.\\nAnd trust for what we can not see.\\n29", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "THE OLD PLAYGROUND.\\nI know I never can forget,\\nUntil my dying day,\\nThe dear old playground where in youth\\nWe used to romp and play.\\nIt was not decked with shrub or flowers,\\nOr anything that way.\\nOh, no t was but a woodland grove\\nIn which we used to play.\\nYet memory kindly keeps for us,\\nThe words we used to say,\\nAnd childish thoughts which filled our brain,\\nWhile there we used to play.\\nI dreamed a dream while there I played,\\nOr viewed it in my mind\\nThat somewhere as I journeyed on,\\nTrue happiness I d find.\\nBut though I ve searched the walks of life,\\nFrom then until this day,\\nI ve found no better earthly joy,\\nThan childhood s romp and play.\\n30", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "JESUS WEPT.\\nWhen Christ was on this mundane shore,\\nHe many griefs and sorrows bore\\nHis Father s holy laws He kept,\\nYet oft, methinks, our Saviour wept.\\nOur gracious Lord, so good and wise,\\nKnew how with man to sympathize.\\nWhen called He came where Laz rus slept.\\nAnd there, we re told, the Saviour wept.\\nThe prophets had fortold His birth\\nAnd griefs and troubles while on earth\\nWhile here He bathed in sorrow s deep\\nAnd o er our sins, perchance, did weep.\\nO matchless love O grace divine\\nThat He for guilt like this would pine;\\nThe fruit of my transgressions reap.\\nAnd o er my sins would mourn and weep.\\nWhen on a Roman cross He bled,\\nEre He was numbered with the dead\\nWhile haughty Jews their vigil kept,\\nMethinks our dying Saviour wept.\\n31", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "AN INFANT S GRAVE.\\nI stood beside an infant s grave,\\nAnd there I bowed my head,\\nAnd dropped a silent tear, because\\nThe htttle one was dead.\\nThen on the wings of faith my soul\\nArose and took its flight\\nTo regions where good spirits dwell,\\nIn endless love and light.\\nWhile thinking on its happy state,\\nI dried each falling tear,\\nAnd thought, t is better it should go,\\nThan live and suffer here.\\nThe mother, when death takes away\\nThe infant from her arms,\\nDoth mourn, and feel that life has lost\\nIts best and sweetest charms.\\nTrue, time may partly soothe their woes.\\nAnd wear away their grief\\nBut faith in God s eternal love,\\nWill prove their best relief.\\n32", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "THE KISS OF JUDAS.\\nThe kiss of chanty of which\\nGod s Holy Writ has spoken,\\nIs not the kiss which Judas gave\\nTo Jesus, as a token.\\nWe humbly fear that Judas is\\nAbroad on earth to-day\\nIf so, they err who fail to watch.\\nAs well as to cease to pray.\\nWe ve thought though some may deem it\\nwrong\\nThat even at this day,\\nFull many a kiss is given with\\nIntention to betray.\\nWe do not say or think it wrong\\nFor persons when they meet,\\nTo give the kiss of charity\\nAnd thus each other srreet.\\nStill it is best to thoughtful be,\\nIn such a land as this.\\nAnd never be betrayed by those\\nWho give the Judas kiss.\\n33", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "PASSAGE OF THE POTOMAC THROUGH THE\\nBLUE RIDGE.\\nThe Shenandoah s waters\\nTo the Potomac flow\\nTheir junction rends the mount in twain,\\nThen on to sea they go.\\nThis is a most stupendous scene.\\nHere Nature breaks her way\\nAnd guides the waters through the mount\\nTowards the placid bay.\\nPerhaps the mountains first were made\\nBy the Creative Hand,\\nAnd then, perchance, the waters rose\\nAnd overflowed the land.\\nWe ve thought, perhaps for ages here,\\nThe billows fought in vain\\nTo gain an opening through the mount,\\nEre it was rent in twain.\\nThe signs of an avulsion here,\\nCorroborate the theme\\nThat Nature s struggles ended with\\nA vic try for the stream.\\nThe rugged mount asunder torn.\\nMust monumental be\\nOf how the grand Potomac gained\\nHis exit to the sea.\\n34", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "MY MOUNTAIN VIEW.\\nI went far up the mountain side,\\nOne pleasant day in June,\\nWhen with the merry songs of birds,\\nThe forest was in tune.\\nWhen near the summit of the mount,\\nI paused and looked below,\\nAnd gazed upon the verdant grains\\nWhich in the valley grow.\\nI heard afar the bleating sheep.\\nThe cattle, too, were seen\\nIn quietude to idly graze\\nUpon the pastures green.\\nA distant cataract was heard.\\nAlthough t was not in sight\\nWithal the scene imposing was\\nAnd filled me with delight.\\nI meekly kneeling, bowed my head.\\nAnd offered words of praise\\nTo Him who thus in Nature s works,\\nHis wondrous love displays.\\nI offered thanks then asked of God,\\nIn my imperfect way,\\nTo help me live above the world,\\nWhile here on earth I stay.\\nFor only they are truly blest.\\nWho humbly act their part.\\nAnd keep the world beneath their feet.\\nAnd Christ within their heart.\\n35", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "MISFORTUNE WILL NOT BRING DISGRACE.\\nThe many avenues of life\\nAre full of hurry, change and strife,\\nAnd poverty and want and care,\\nUpon our way are nothing rare\\nYet it is plain in every case.\\nMisfortune does not bring disgrace.\\nFinancial troubles oft assail,\\nAnd men of business sometimes fail\\nThey leave their dwellings rich and rare,\\nAnd humbler homes their children share;\\nStill this is true in every place.\\nMisfortune does not bring disgrace.\\nThe mourning widow can t forget\\nHer bridal robe and jewels set.\\nThe smiling groom, the rich display.\\nUpon her happy wedding day\\nThough she alone life s ills must face,\\nMisfortune will not bring disgrace.\\nDevoted parents while they live,\\nTheir children kind attention give;\\nBut when parental care is o er\\nThe orphan s heart with grief is sore.\\nYet though alone he runs his race,\\nMisfortune does not bring disgrace.\\nMisconduct t is which strikes the blow,\\nYea, sin it is which leads to woe\\nStill if we will not be misled.\\nBut in the way of duty tread,\\nNo matter how forlorn our case.\\nMisfortune can not bring disgrace.\\n36", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "GEOGRAPHY OF LIFE.\\nThe surface of this earthly sphere,\\nIts plains and mountain ranges,\\nIn emblematic language tells\\nOur life s eventful changes.\\nWe Ve been across the Rocky range,\\nThe Andes peaks we ve counted\\nStill all the mountains yet we ve tried,\\nThrough grace we have surmounted.\\nWe ve camped on Afric s desert sand,\\nWhere dangers dark abound;\\nAnd yet the rugged Alps of life,\\nWe ve nowhere ever found.\\nOur former trials kindled hope.\\nWhich lingers still in mind,\\nThat though we 11 high obstructions meet.\\nNo Alps we 11 ever find.\\n37", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "THERE IS NO TIORROW.\\nChildren, there is no to-morrow\\nWisely grasp the present day.\\nLearn to use the passing moments,\\nEre from you they flit away.\\nMorrow is a myth, a shadow,\\nWhich we can not overtake\\nThen let us proceed to action.\\nAnd our best endeavors make.\\nFatal is procrastination,\\nOft, too oft, it brings us sorrow\\nMany a loss we bear by waiting,\\nSimply waiting, for to-morrow.\\nLet us never lose by idling.\\nHoping future time to borrow\\nLet us never chase the phantom\\nWhich the people call to-morrow.\\n38", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "THE VOICE OF THE RILL.\\nI went into the meadow green,\\nAnd there I took a seat\\nI listened to the Httle rill,\\nWhich murmured at my feet.\\nIt came from up the mountain side-\\nOn to the brook it went\\nIt hastened rapidly as if\\nUpon a mission sent.\\nOf course the waters did not speak,\\nAnd yet I seemed to hear\\nA voice from out the tiny rill.\\nWhich whispered, Persevere\\nThere is a work for all to do,\\nAnd none should idle be;\\nThough I am but a tiny stream\\nI hope to reach the sea.\\nThis language of the lovely rill\\nMy drooping heart did cheer,\\nAnd I resolved on duty s path.\\nTo humbly persevere.\\n39", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "OUR SOLAR SYSTEM.\\nWe worship God in loving fear,\\nFor all His works and wonders here\\nAnd yet we can not understand\\nThe strength of His creative hand.\\nT is by His power the plahets run\\nWithin their orbits round the sun\\nFor nought but His unbounded might,\\nCan guide the heavenly orbs aright.\\nWe wish it could be understood,\\nIf beings there are wise and good\\nW? wish, yet wish in vain to know\\nIf there they sin, as we below.\\nYet most we wonder if they share\\nThe loving Saviour s watchful care\\nOr if the dear Redeemer s been\\nTo worlds afar to die for sin.\\nIn future, science may unfold\\nA depth of knowledge yet untold,\\nAnd unto us may be revealed\\nFull many a secret now concealed.\\nWe mortals in this earthly state.\\nMust learn to labor and to wait,\\nWhile all existing worlds proclaim.\\nTheir great Creator s holy name.\\n40", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "CHRIST A PATTERN OF TRUE HUMILITY.\\nThe Christian of the present day,\\nOf every type or name,\\nHas turned aside too oft through pride.\\nAnd sought for worldly fame.\\nThe meek and lowly Nazarene,\\nOur pattern and our stay,\\nDid not require a rich attire\\nHe made no false display.\\nBut clothed in sweet humility.\\nAt ev ry time and place\\nHe did fulfil His Father s will,\\nAnd teach His love and grace.\\nCome then in spirit, O our God\\nAnd cause Thy scattered sheep\\nTo seek Thy face, to know Thy grace,\\nAnd Thy commandments keep.\\n41", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "A CHRISTMAS POEM.\\nLuke II 8-14.\\nWhile Eastern shepherds watched their flocks,\\nAn angel from the skies\\nCame down with sweeet salvation news\\nTo earth from Paradise.\\nFear not, we bring you tidings good,\\nOf great, of lasting joy\\nFor unto you a Saviour s born.\\nWho 11 sin and death destroy.\\nThen suddenly a multitude,\\nSang sweetly of the grace\\nProvided by redeeming love\\nFor Adam s fallen race.\\nOn Christmas time by faith we view\\nThat bright celestial throng,\\nAnd listen to the angel choir.\\nWhich sings redemption s song.\\nIn every age, in every clime,\\nSalvation is the same;\\nBehold, what wonders God has wrought\\nFor man, through Jesus name.\\nIn vain we strike our earthly harps\\nIn vain our church-bells chime\\nWe fail to honor as we would,\\nThe blissful Christmas time.\\n42", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "THE THREE P S.\\nPatience is a virtue sweet,\\nWhile we the storms of life must meet;\\nWith calm endurance by our side,\\nWe 11 bravely stem the swelling tide.\\nWith Prudence we can not dispense,\\nFor though our trials be immense,\\nDiscretion in our darkest hours\\nWill shield us from Satanic powers.\\nT is Perseverance brings success\\nFor God doth constant efforts bless,\\nWhen by His spirit we are led.\\nIn wisdom s way to meekly tread.\\nIf Patience with us doth abide.\\nAnd we have Prudence for our guide,\\nWhile Perseverance clears the way,\\nWe shall in paths of duty stay.\\n43", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "NAVAL BATTLE IN MANILA HARBOR.\\nT was in the lovely month of May,\\nAnd early, at the dawn of day,\\nOur squadron which had crossed the billow,\\nWas seen within the bay, Manila.\\nThe Spanish flagship opened fire.\\nThe Cavite forts displayed their ire\\nOur fleet replied soon all engaged,\\nAnd loud and fierce the battle raged.\\nThe ship which had their colors borne\\nSo proudly, now was rent and torn.\\nTill, taking fire, they saw her burn\\nIn angry flames, from stem to stern.\\nMontejo, who M planned their fight,\\nFor safety from his ship took flight.\\nFrom ship to ship he fled in vain\\nDestruction followed in his train.\\nAnd when the bloody strife was o er,\\nSpain s glittering war fleet was no more.\\nT was thus she tried our naval powers,\\nAnd found the famous victory ours.\\nOur Dewey won the honors fine,\\nWhich history round his name shall twine,\\nWhile Spain s proud navy mourns the day\\nShe fought us in Manila Bay.\\n44", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "THREE REASONS FOR PATRIOTISM.\\nWhile listening to the call for troops,\\nWe pause and drop a tear\\nYet we resolve to face the fight\\nOur father s tombs are here.\\nWe can t allow invasive feet\\nUpon their graves to tread.\\nShould we not go, a foreign flag\\nMight float above our dead.\\nThis country is our birthplace, too,\\nOur cradle, as it were\\nShe may have rocked us roughly, still\\nOur mother-land is dear.\\nThough we deplore the ills of war,\\nWe can not idly stand\\nAnd see a foul intrusive foe\\nOppress our native land.\\nA birthright for our children, too.\\nThis western clime s to be\\nThen let us nobly face the worst.\\nFor our posterity\\nThat they may get this land from us.\\nFree from oppressor s rod,\\nAs we received it from our sires,\\nWho sleep beneath the sod.\\n45", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "THE RAGGED ROBE.\\nSome people dress in fabrics fine,\\nWhen fortune doth bequeath them;\\nYet optics keen have sometimes seen,\\nA ragged soul beneath them.\\nYes, there s a threadbare texture which\\nIs causing sore disgraces\\n*T is character known to be worn\\nAnd broken through in places.\\nWhen sin and folly bring us shame,\\nT is vain to twist or wheedle.\\nFor Time can not this tear repair.\\nThough dex trous be his needle.\\nThen let our garments spotless be.\\nAs on through life we travel\\nYea, never dare this robe to wear.\\nWhich tends to tear or ravel.\\n46", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "MOTHER S GRAVE.\\nUnless my fluttering heart could speak,\\nIts troubles to reveal,\\nI can t express my feelings when\\nAt mother s grave I kneel.\\nYet, often when my heart s oppressed.\\nBy sorrow, grief, or care,\\nI 11 lay my work aside and go\\nTo bow in secret there.\\nT is sad and yet t is sweet to think\\nHer trials here are o er.\\nAnd she is gone, we trust to rest\\nOn Canaan s happy shore.\\nI entertain a hope that we.\\nWhen our suff rings all are past.\\nShall meet in that delightful land\\nOf peace and rest at last.\\nMy pen will not depict my mind.\\nAnd yet I often crave\\nTo tell my thoughts and feelings when\\nI visit mother s grave.\\n47", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "AUTUMN LEAVES.\\nWhen fair October dons her crown,\\nOh, what a lovely view\\nThe autumn leaves in turning brown,\\nShow many a brilliant hue.\\nWhen thus October takes the place\\nOf summer s rosy bloom.\\nWe feel a deep solemnity,\\nYet have no cause for gloom.\\nFor though the fading leaves depict\\nThis fleeting life s decline,\\nBy faith we view the opening spring,\\nCelestial and divine.\\nA happy land of vernal day.\\nAnd ever blooming flowers.\\nWhere chilling blasts shall never blight\\nThose blissful Eden bowers.\\nThen let us haste while yet we may.\\nTo bind our golden sheaves,\\nEre precious moments pass away,\\nLike transient autumn leaves.\\n48", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "POETICAL PRAYER FOR THE UNITED STATES\\nIN VIEW OF FOREIGN TROUBLE.\\nThou God of light, of love and might,\\nHear Thou our fervent prayer\\nLord, wilt Thou smile upon us while,\\nThe nations at us dare.\\nTo men of state wilt Thou dictate\\nThe course they should pursue\\nMay they reflect, all wrong reject,\\nAnd timely service do.\\nGive Thou relief to our ruler chief.\\nFrom all perplexing care\\nIf war he must, teach him to trust\\nIn Thee and to prepare.\\nWe may equip with battleship.\\nAnd well prepared may be.\\nYet strength, we own, O Lord, alone\\nMust come to us from Thee.\\nThen let us all, whate er befall.\\nSupremely in Thee trust\\nTo pray for peace may we not cease,\\nYet fight when fight we must.\\nMarch 9th, 1898.\\n49", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "THE NEW MOON.\\nOne evening as around my form,\\nThe soft spring zephyrs blew,\\nI stood and watched the pale new moon,\\nJust coming up in view.\\nBoth grand and solemn was the scene\\nI waited late and long,\\nAnd the impressive silence broke\\nBy chanting forth a song.\\nAnd as the hills an echo gave,\\nWhich mocked my feeble tone,\\nA cloud swept o er this fair young moon,\\nWhich had so gently shown.\\nPerhaps the scene phophetic was.\\nFor in my latter daj^s,\\nI find that troubles oft obscure\\nAnd darken pleasure s rays.\\nAnd many, as they journey on.\\nWill find, perchance full soon,\\nThat clouds bedim their earthly hopes\\nLike shadows o er the moon.\\n50", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "T IS THE LAST RED ROSE OF SUMMER,\\nT is the last red rose of summer\\nAnd in language all sublime,\\nSpeaks unto our hearts and tells us\\nOf approaching autumn time.\\nTells us that the season s ended,\\nTells us that the frost is nigh\\nSeems to say Our mother, Nature,\\nBids us tell our friends good-bye.\\nLinger yet awhile, sweet flower.\\nYouthful hearts to cheer and please;\\nWe shall miss thy soothing fragrance.\\nWafted on the morning breeze.\\nStay av/hile, dear rose, we pray thee,\\nSay not that thy work is done\\nLet us see again thy petals,\\nDew-decked, sparkle in the sun.\\nHark we hear the rose s answer,\\nFriends, entreat me not to stay\\nI must heed the wooing voices.\\nWhich are calling me away.\\nBut I M leave you now this message\\nTake the counsel which I give,\\nAnd like the rose be free from blemish\\nWhile your fleeting lives you live.\\n51", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "A NEW YEAR S POEM.\\nThe dear old year of ninety-six,\\nForever s from us gone\\nAnd blest are we, indeed, to see\\nAnother New Year s morn.\\nYet on the threshold of a year\\nThat s new and all untried,\\nWe pause and tremble, for we fear\\nThat evils may betide.\\nWhat crosses shall we daily meet.\\nWhat trials, what distress?\\nWho will our many wants supply?\\nWho will our wrongs redress?\\nWe not the least assurance have,\\nOf safety or of ease.\\nOn flow ry paths which fancy paints\\nSo oft our minds to please.\\nStill, there s a safety road which leads\\nThrough time to realms of light\\nOn this the humble saint doth Walk\\nBy faith and not by sight.\\nJanuary, 1897.\\n52", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. RUTH\\nEMERSON.\\nOur mother s strong maternal love,\\nA blessing was from God above.\\nHow faithful was her constant care,\\nHow oft for us she knelt in prayer.\\nWe mourn her loss since He who gave,\\nHas called her to her silent grave.\\nYes, she has spent on earth her day,\\nAnd from the world has passed away\\nStill let us tread where once she trod,\\nAnd ne er forget our mother s God\\nWho taught her with a faith sublime.\\nTo look beyond the shores of time.\\nReligion, oh thou balm for grief.\\nHow oft in thee she found relief\\nFrom sore distressing cares of life.\\nWith which her pilgrimage was rife\\nShe leaned on God s supporting power,\\nThrough many a dark and trying hour.\\nServant of God, we say, well done.\\nThy battle s fought, thy victory s won\\nThy sainted soul, we trust doth shine\\nBefore the throne of God divine.\\nWhy should we of this earthly dell\\nThus shudder when we say farewell?\\n53", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "THE SIN OF MOTHER EVE.\\nAlmost six thousand years ago,\\nSix thousand miles away,\\nOur Mother Eve in Eden-land,\\nWith Adam used to stay.\\nImagination doubtless fails\\nTo paint the trees and flowers,\\nOr show aright the beauteous scenes,\\nThey saw in Eden s bowers.\\nAs all that s bright and pure and good\\nWas concentrated there,\\nMethinks they had the privilege.\\nOf dainties rich and rare.\\nHow sad to think of Satan s wiles,\\nOf how he did deceive,\\nAnd through the serpent did beguile\\nThe heart of Mother Eve.\\nPoor erring Eve, our Mother Eve,\\nWhat would this world have been\\nHad Satan s plans a failure proved\\nIn introducing sin?\\nThen would this earthly home of ours,\\nSo pleasant to our sight,\\nHave been, were Satan but expelled,\\nA land of pure delight.\\n54", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "Yet since there is a balm for sin,\\nWe hopeless need not grieve,\\nFor Jesus died to rectify\\nThe wrongs of Mother Eve.\\nHow wondrous was the wisdom which\\nFor sin salvation gave,\\nThat saints may in an Eden rest.\\nBeyond the silent grave.\\n55", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "WORK BEGUN IN PRAYER IS APT TO END IN\\nPRAISE.\\nThe Master gives his trusting saints\\nA glimpse of mercy s rays,\\nAnd any work begun in prayer,\\nIs apt to end in praise.\\nThen, O how sadly do we err,\\nWhen we on self depend.\\nAnd do not seek the heavenly care\\nOf Christ, who doth befriend.\\nNo matter what our work may be.\\nEre we begin the task,\\nT is good for us to look above,\\nAnd loving favor ask.\\nFor only when our God protects.\\nAre we from harm secure\\nHe reconciles our minds and gives\\nUs patience to endure.\\nSo let us seek His needed help,\\nThrough all our earthly days.\\nBeginning all our works in prayer\\nAnd ending all in praise.\\n66", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "THE PIPE OF PEACE.\\nWhen Indian warriors deemed it best\\nThat cruel strife should cease,\\nThe tomahawk they buried first,\\nThen smoked the pipe of peace.\\nThough introduced by savage tribes,\\nThis custom should abound;\\nHow happy is the home in which\\nThe pipe of peace is found.\\nIn union there is lasting strength,\\nDivisions make us weak\\nWe Ve therefore thought our churches, too,\\nThis pipe of peace should seek.\\nThe blest millennium of love,\\nBy faith afar we see,\\nWhen all assemblies here on earth.\\nIn quietude shall be.\\nWhen shall the happy day appear,\\nWhen bloody war shall cease\\nAll nations in one council join\\nAnd smoke the pipe of peace?\\n57", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "THE RAINBOW.\\nA rainbow spanned the spacious earth,\\nWith colors fair and bright,\\nWhile baby gazed upon the scene,\\nEvincing great delight.\\nDear mamma, said the little child,\\nNow crouching at my feet,\\nWho made the rainbow in the sky.\\nWhich looks so bright and sweet?\\nT was God, my child, t was He who rules\\nThe drifting clouds on high\\nWith humble hearts we should survey\\nThese wonders of the sky.\\nThe rainbow is a token that\\nGod s ways are ever sure,\\nAnd all His steadfast promises,\\nForever shall endure.\\nThen may you on each promise lean,\\nWhich Holy Writ makes known,\\nAnd in the future ever view\\nThe rainbow round the throne.\\n58", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE PARTRIDGE.\\nHow we love the birds of summer,\\nHow their thrilling notes admire\\nWhen we hear the partridge whistle,\\nPleasant thoughts it doth inspire.\\nWhen our fields are brown for harvest,\\nTeeming with the wheat and rye,\\nOld Bob White, the partridge, whistles\\nWhile the sickle we apply.\\nSome may have no ear for music,\\nOn the sultry harvest days\\nBut to me the partridge whistle\\nSoundeth like a note of praise.\\nOft, perchance, some other songster.\\nCheers us with his charming strain,\\nAs we glean among the reapers.\\nBinding up the fallen grain.\\nAs these notes from native minstrels\\nRing from out the verdant leaves.\\nOld Bob White, the partridge, whistles\\nWhile we gather up the sheaves.\\n59", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "THE COLORS OF OUR FLAG.\\nOur flag, the symbol of our strength,\\nWhich floats o er sea and land,\\nDoth bear her sacred colors bright,\\nWhich nations understand.\\nThe red which glitters on our flag,\\nSpeaks of the many braves\\nWho for our grand old Union fought,\\nNow resting in their graves.\\nThe blue in emblematic words.\\nUpon our banner flying,\\nSpeaks of fidelity and truth,\\nAnd liberty undying.\\nBy white upon this ensign bold,\\nOur purity is known\\nSincerity of purpose, too,\\nIs by this color shown.\\nForever may our standard wave,\\nO er land and o er the seas,\\nOur dear old flag, our grand old flag,\\nThat flutters on the breeze.\\n60", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "LEE AND JACKSON.\\nOur Southern flag, which knew no stain,\\nHas long been furled to so remain\\nAgain the North and South unite,\\nNo more, we trust, to strive and fight.\\nYet Southern hearts must e er retain,\\nTheir love for those who fought in vain.\\nThe grand achievements which were done\\nBy Light-horse Harry s gallant son.\\nOur coming heroes will do well\\nTo equal and can not excel\\nWhile Jackson, as his strong right arm,\\nTo all his movements lend a charm\\nWhile Jackson o er the river crossed.\\nThe South a valiant hero lost;\\nYet happier was his lot to go.\\nThan stay, the final end to know\\nTo see the cause for which he fought.\\nCrushed down and come at last to naught.\\nOf all who love the Southern cross.\\nOur Lee most keenly felt our loss.\\nIt was his lot to end life s toil\\nOn old Virginia s sacred soil\\nAnd time shall not obliterate\\nHis memory from his native State.\\n61", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "LINES COnPOSED FROM THE LAST WORDS OF\\nniSS riARY LIGHT.\\nOh, the precious ties of nature\\nHow they bind our hearts as one\\nYet they must be torn asunder,\\nFor on earth my work is done.\\nYes, the tide of Hfe is ebbing,\\nCold in death my form must lie\\nLet my loved ones gather round me.\\nLet us kiss the last good-bye.\\nSoon my suffering will be o er,\\nI am going home to dwell\\nWhere there are no painful partings.\\nWhere they never say farewell.\\nMother, put the cherished presents.\\nWhich my friends have given me,\\nIn the casket when I m buried\\nEver let them near me be.\\nKiss me once again, dear mother.\\nPress me fondly to your breast,\\nAnd when I m gone may this console you,\\nLittle Mary is at rest.\\n62", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTIAN S HELP IN TIME OP TROUBLE.\\nThe Christian of these latter days,\\nWe humbly fear, too seldom prays\\nHe trusts too much to earthly means,\\nAnd on his God too lightly leans.\\nHowe er perplexing be our task.\\nHe 11 aid, if we in faith will ask,\\nAnd unto Him our wants will bring.\\nAnd trust to Him for everything.\\nThen let us go as Esther went,\\nAnd to the King our cause present\\nThe touch of mercy we shall gain,\\nAnd shall not seek for help in vain.\\nThe prayer of faith our God will heed.\\nAnd aid extend in time of need\\nAnd though perplexed, we ever must\\nOn Him alone for comfort trust.\\nThough sorrows like the ocean rage,\\nWhich earthly hands can not assuage.\\nThe billows ne er can rise above\\nThe mercy of the God of love.\\n63", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "ADVICE TO WAYWARD CHILDREN.\\nWhen children see the shrouds of death\\nO er loving parents thrown,\\nT is customary, then, for them\\nTo bow their heads and mourn.\\nNow we ve a word of kind advice,\\nFor those who soon must bow.\\nT is this Take a second thought,\\nAnd do your mourning now.\\nMourn o er your parents broken hearts,\\nWhile they your grief can see\\nAnd bring your reformation round,\\nEre they in death shall be.\\nDon t crush their hearts by manners ill,\\nNor sundry evil ways.\\nBut gently lead them by the hand\\nIn their decHning days.\\nThen when the monster death is near.\\nAnd they their course have run,\\nYou 11 have the pleasant consciousness\\nThat you ve your duty done.\\n64", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "THE OBLONG OVEN.\\nAmong the many family relics,\\nWhich remind us of the past,\\nYou will find an oblong oven,\\nIn some ancient foundry cast.\\nWhile I gaze upon this token,\\nYouthful mem ries crowd my head.\\nFor t was in this oblong oven,\\nMother used to bake our bread.\\nAt the sight of mother s oven.\\nChildhood s dormant fancies wake.\\nFor t was in that oblong oven.\\nOft she fried our breakfast steak.\\nModern cooks can t make their cookies\\nTaste to us as once they did.\\nWhen mother baked our Christmas dainties\\nUnderneath the oblong lid.\\nAbout the present mode of cooking.\\nWords of praise are truly said,\\nYet we prefer the old-time oven.\\nAnd the oblong loaf of bread.\\n66", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "THE WHJPPOORWILL.\\nOf all the songsters on the way,\\nThat round us coo, chirp, twitter, sing,\\nThe one that doth my heart most thrill,\\nIs the well known whippoorwill.\\nWhen we know that spring is near.\\nBy notes familiar which we hear,\\nIt doth my soul with pleasure fill\\nTo hear the welcome whippoorv/ill.\\nWhile the sparrow twitters nigh,\\nOr if I hear the robin s cry,\\nI love their notes, yet I must still\\nPrefer the plaintiff whippoorwill.\\nHe trills in melancholy tone\\nYet naught doth give to make us mourn\\nNo more the wintry storms we fear,\\nWhen once the whippoorwill we hear.\\n..A^\\nB6", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "THE HONEY BEE.\\nThe active little humming bee\\nWhich oft we in our garden see,\\nDoth wisely spend her summer hours\\nIn sipping nectar from the flow^ers\\nWhile all the world is bright and fair,\\nFor wintry days she doth prepare.\\nShe builds her many rooms aright\\nShe spreads her wax to make them tight\\nThen visits forests, fields or bowers,\\nOr any place where there are flowers,\\nAnd brings into each tiny cell,\\nThe food with which she stores it well.\\nThe energetic honey bee,\\nGives counsel wise, it seems to me\\nShe speaks as plainly as she may,\\nAnd bids us in our sphere to stay\\nWhatever our work, she gives us cheer\\nAnd urges us to persevere.\\n67", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "A PRAYER FOR TEMPERANCE.\\nO Lord, we come to Thee for help,\\nIn humbleness of heart,\\nWilt Thou our supplications heed,\\nAnd aid divine impart.\\nExcessive drinking causeth man\\nTo sin against Thy name\\nIt dissipates his mind and brings\\nHim into open shame.\\nWilt Thou arouse us, one and all,\\nAn effort to exert.\\nTo check this deadly evil and\\nIts dangers to avert.\\nOft liquor drags the father down.\\nThough noble, true and brave,\\nFrom high position then at last.\\nHe fills a drunkard s grave.\\nThus liquor makes the widows mourn.\\nO er hopes forever dead,\\nWhile friendless orphans wander forth,\\nTo seek their daily bread.\\nLord, in Thy strength alone we strive.\\nMay help in Thee be found.\\nTill liquor and its baneful wrongs.\\nShall here no more abound.", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "LINES ON THE LIFE OF W. F. B. TAYLOR.\\nSuggested by the loan of a book from his son, John S. laylor.\\nAs backward through a mist of years\\nI gaze, I view again\\nYour generous father s manly form\\nWhich fills my heart with pain.\\nHow sad that we can hope to meet,\\nWith one so kind no more,\\nTill we, perchance, his face may see,\\nUpon the farther shore.\\nA benefactor to the poor.\\nOr guide to orphan feet,\\nWas surely not rejected at\\nThe common mercy seat.\\nShun thou them, if in earlier years.\\nHe follies had displayed.\\nAnd copy virtues rare in which\\nHis old age was arrayed.\\nThe father s image in his son\\nReflected may we view;\\nYea, may you be as wise as he,\\nAs useful, just and true.\\n69", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTIAN WARFARE.\\nLife is a warfare, oh, my God,\\nLife is a battlefield.\\nAnd we must fight the fight of faith,\\nOr else the cause must yield.\\nThe weary spirit longs for peace.\\nYet finds no lasting rest.\\nFor discord is so often near,\\nTo rack the Christian s breast.\\nThe world, the flesh, and Satan all\\nTheir fiendish strength unite,\\nAnd strive against the feeble saint,\\nWho would maintain the right.\\nBeyond the Christian s weary march,\\nO er life s combatant ground,\\nThe Soldier of the Cross shall rest\\nThere peace at last is found.\\nThen let us gird our armor on.\\nAnd strive with ardor brave,\\nTo gain the rest which faithful saints\\nShall know beyond the grave.\\n70", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "WEEK-DAY PIETY.\\nProfessing Christians oft display\\nSweet virtues on the Sabbath day,\\nWho on the six succeeding days\\nHave very worldly, sinful ways.\\nNow this is wrong t is right that we\\nShould on the Sabbath pious be,\\nYet He who gives us Sabbath grace,\\nOn Monday will not hide His face.\\nOn Tuesday He will aid extend,\\nAnd Wednesday still will blessings send\\nThursday He will by us stand,\\nAnd Friday lend a helping hand.\\nOn Saturday we still shall find\\nA solace for our weary mind\\nSo every day in every week\\nThe trusting soul should comfort seek.\\nThen while we pray that grace divine\\nMay on the Sabbath round us shine.\\nLet s ever e er we close our prayers,\\nBeg strength for week-day works and cares,\\n71", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "MADAM RUMOR.\\nWhen Madam Rumor findeth fault,\\nOr whispereth words of slander,\\nT is well for us to watchful be.\\nAnd try to understand her.\\nFor, if the madam, Judas-like,\\nHer neighbor is betraying,\\nWe should not give her credit for\\nThe evil she is saying.\\nWhen Madam Rumor speaketh false,\\nThe wise and good disdain her;\\nShe can not standing long remain,\\nWith nothing to sustain her.\\nYet, sometimes Madam Rumor finds\\nBad truths in people s matters.\\nT is here she strikes a fatal blow.\\nAnd reputation shatters.\\nThen let us ever careful be\\nTo show a goodly humor.\\nThat no bad truths may e er be told\\nOf us by Madam Rumor.\\n72", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "POETICAL PRAYER FOR ORPHANS OF THE\\nDANVILLE DISTRICT.\\nO Thou who hear st the orphans cry,\\nIn pity wilt Thou now draw nigh\\nWilt Thou some sweet assurance give,\\nThat our enfeebled hopes may live?\\nWilt Thou our hearts and hands engage.\\nTo build for them an orphanage\\nThat children may no longer roam,\\nOur district o er without a home?\\nThine own inspired writers penned\\nThee ever as the orphan s friend\\nThis sacred truth, please verify.\\nAnd unto them in love draw nigh.\\nThou, Father of the fatherless.\\nOur thoughts for them please aid and bless\\nSend one like Moses forth to lead\\nAnd organize the plans we need.\\nThis office, Lord, if t is thy will,\\nLet our Presiding Elder fill\\nThus may DeShazo s mental powers.\\nPress forward this grand work of ours.\\nOctober ist, 1895.\\n7a", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "nOTHER S MEDITATION.\\nI feel that I can not grow old,\\nAlthough my hair is gray,\\nWhile little children on me lean.\\nOr round me romp and play.\\nThe merry pranks, the prattling voice,\\nThe lisping infant tongue.\\nDoth cheer my heart and make me think\\nThat I again am young.\\nThus children teach me to forget\\nLife s mystic chain so long\\nThough I am feeble, still my heart\\nDoth bear affection strong.\\nBut, oh, when they have older grown,\\nAnd dropped their gleeful ways,\\nI fear we 11 sadly miss their mirth,\\nAnd pine in future days.\\nYet let us offer present thanks,\\nP or pleasures we possess.\\nAnd pray the God of youth and age,\\nOur little ones to bless.\\n74", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "\\\\?00", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n015 907 536 9", "height": "3171", "width": "1857", "jp2-path": "bookofpoems00hanc_0080.jp2"}}