(PART II) - MISCELLANY
Books by Mary Baker Eddy

TO THE OLD YEAR - 1865
page 848


TO THE OLD YEAR - 1865



     Pass on, returnless year!
The track behind thee is with
       glory crowned;
The turf where thou hast trod is
       holy ground.
     Pass proudly to thy bier!

     Chill was thy midnight day,
While Justice grasped the sword to hold her
       throne,
And on her altar our loved Lincoln's own
     Great willing heart did lay.

     Thy purpose hath been won!
Thou point'st thy phantom finger, grim and
       cold,
To the dark record of our guilt unrolled,
     And smiling, say'st, " 'Tis done!

     "This record I will bear
To the dim chambers of eternity - 
The chain and charter I have lived to see
     Purged by the cannon's prayer;

PO 27



     "Convulsion, carnage, war;
The pomp and tinsel of unrighteous power;
Bloated oppression in its awful hour, - 
     I, dying, dare abhor!"

     One word, receding year,
Ere thou grow tremulous with shadowy
       night!
Say, will the young year dawn with wisdom's
       light
     To brighten o'er thy bier?

     Or we the past forget,
And heal her wounds too tenderly to last?
Or let today grow difficult and vast
     With traitors unvoiced yet?

     Though thou must leave the tear, - 
Hearts bleeding ere they break in silence yet,
Wrong jubilant and right with bright eye
     wet, - 
     Thou fast expiring year,

     Thy work is done, and well:
Thou hast borne burdens, and may take thy
       rest,
Pillow thy head on time's untired breast.
     Illustrious year, farewell!

Lynn, Mass., January 1, 1866.


PO 28




Next Page

|| - page index - || - chapter index - || - download - || - Exit - ||

 

 

 

 

 (c) Copyright 1998 - Rolf Witzsche
Published by Cygni Communications Ltd. North Vancouver, Canada