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Ah, too soon the moments fly,
Now the bird his nest forsakes
And the rosy morning breaks
From the Orient sky.

1903

ON THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH ORGAN

Thou in whose chords the soul of music dwells,
Tuned by a master hand, awake, awake,
And in these temple walls where thou dost stand,
Peal forth thy first glad song of joyful praise
To Him the great Creator of us all,
The Mighty Lord, the Universal King.

Thou art our offering, unto Him alone
We dedicate thee on this Sabbath day,
And while we listen to thy thrilling tones,
Now soft, now swelling with ecstatic bliss,
Oh, may our voices blend with one accord,
And faith directed may our spirits rise;
Beyond the clouds and look within the vail.

Accept, O gracious Lord, the gift we bring,
Receive the tribute of our grateful love,
And when, as now, we gather in Thy name,
Behold this organ for Thy worship made;
Behold the singers, and their song inspire.
Here, may the smile of gentle peace abide,
And here the brightness of Thy glory shine.

1905

A PLEASANT REMINISCENCE
(School for the Blind,Wethersfield Ave., Hartford,Conn.)

There's a day that comes from the sunny past,
'Where it lives in friendship's bowers;
And it whispers soft of a hallowed scene
In the early spring when the hills were green
And we met for a few brief hours.

'Tis a day long past, but remembered yet
When I stood in your home so dear;
I can see you all as I saw you then,
I can feel the clasp of each hand again
And your welcome words I hear.

O friends beloved, 'tis a golden chain
That binds us heart to heart,
'Twas woven in light where angels sing
And the roses bloom in eternal spring,
And its links no power can part.

And oft as I muse and my brow is fanned
By a breath from the passing gales,
Though weary my spirit at times may be,
How restful the pleasure that flows to me.
While reading your "Talks and Tales."

TO BROTHER AND SISTER COBHAM

The noble deed you both have done, O precious friends of mine,
A star has added to your crown,
That on your brow will shine.
You did it in the Master's name,
And yet you little knew
That angel eyes were looking down
From yonder arch of blue.

Three youthful workers for the Lord
Were brought at your behest,
And in your sunlit home they found
The bliss of tranquil rest.

You gave them kindly words of cheer,
And strewed their path with flowers;
They heard the carol of the birds
In nature's rural bowers.

They bounded o'er the rock-girt hills
And paused awhile to see,
The Allegheny, flowing on,
Majestic, grand and free;
Then turning back they sought again,
Your dwelling in the grove,
And to the light guitar they sang
Glad songs of grateful love.

And when we gathered round your board,
With tempting viands blest,
You did not leave the driver out,
But called him with the rest;
He took his place, the moments passed
In social converse sweet;
We ate and drank, and praised the Lord
For such a dear retreat.

But then the evening time drew near,
We saw the shades descend,
And with a sigh of fond regret,
We parted, friend with friend;
The light guitar, the choral song.
Will in our memory dwell,
Till we, in glory, clasp our hands,
No more to say farewell.

O precious friends, your noble deeds
Will never, never die,
Behold and read in gilded lines
Their message in the sky.
The Lord is with you, fear ye not,
Though pilgrims here ye roam,
He'll bring you safe where those you love
Will sing your Welcome Home.

1905

CHAUTAUQUAN GREETING
(Dedicated to the Round Table, August 10, 1906)

In these classic wilds of beauty,
In our summer land so dear,
Crowned with blessings rich and boundless
We have gathered year by year.

From the village and the hamlet,
From the city's crowded streets,
In our summer home so tranquil,
We are spared again to meet.

Hail, Chautauquan sons and daughters,
Swell the chorus; let it break
O'er the forest and the mountain,
O'er the waves of Tully Lake.

Like Minerva, rich in wisdom,
Dropping words like gentle dew,
Still our President is with us,
And her magic wand we view.

While our noble, kind director,
Warmly as in years before,
Gives to each a cordial welcome
To Assembly Park once more.

Silver lake and giant forest
Many hours like this recall,
While they sing with tuneful measure:
Happy greetings one and all!

Are we all at our Round Table?
All who gathered years ago?
No, some tender links are broken,
And our tears awhile must flow.

Far beyond the silent river,
Some have laid their burdens down;
They have heard the Saviour's welcome,
And received their promised crown.

Now they bid us weep no longer,
But enjoy the pleasant hours,
Till by angels we are wafted
To their paradise of flowers.

Hail, Chautauquan sons and daughters,
Nature joins our song of love;
Happy greeting, happy greeting,
To our temple in the grove.

GOOD-NIGHT! GOOD-NIGHT!

On the last night of the old year, nineteen hundred and five, I attended the watch-night services at the First Methodist Episcopal Church in Bridgeport. I had previously prepared a poem entitled "The Message of the Old Year" which I recited there, and with this I, too, will bid you all "good-night."