Where I am, the great and noble
Tell me of renown and fame,
And the red wine sparkles highest,
To do honor to my name :
Far away a place is vacant,
By a humble heart, for me,
Dying embers dimly show it,
Where I fain would be!
Where I am are glorious dreamings,
Science, genius, art divine;
And the great minds whom all honor
Interchange their thoughts with mine:-
A few simple hearts are waiting,
Longing, wearying, for me,
Far away where tears are falling,
Where I fain would be!
Where I am, all think me happy,
For so well I play my part,
None can guess, who smile around me,
How far distant is my heart;
Far away, in a poor cottage,
Listening to the dreary sea,
Where the treasures of my
Where I fain would be!
PLYMOUTH DEDICATION HYMN.
HE winds and waves were roaring;
The Pilgrims met for prayer;
And here, their God adoring,
They stood in open air.
When breaking day they greeted,
And when its close was calm,
The leafless woods repeated
The music of their psalm.
Not thus, O, God, to praise Thee,
Do we, their children, throng;
The temple's arch we raise Thee,
Gives back our choral song.
Yet on the winds that bore Thee
Their worship and their prayers,
May ours come up before Thee
From hearts as true as theirs!
What have we, Lord, to bind us
To this the Pilgrims shore! -
Their hill of graves behind us,
Their watery way before,
The wintry surge that dashes
Against the rocks they trod,
Their memory, and their ashes, -
Be Thou their guard, O God!
We would not, Holy Father,
Forsake this hallowed spot,
Till on that shore we gather
Where graves and griefs are not;
The shore where true devotion
Shall rear no pillar'd shrine,
And see no other ocean
Than that of love divine.
Father, Mother, Sister, Brother,
All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is fill'd- we're all at home;
To-night let no cold stranger come;
It is not often this around
Our old familiar hearth we're found.
Bless then, the meeting and the spot;
For once be every care forgot;
Let gentle Peace assert her power,
And kind affection rule the hour;
We're all all here.
Who thronged with us this ancient hearth,
And gave the hour to guiltless mirth.
Fate with a stern, relentless hand,
Looked in and thinn'd our little band:
Some, like a night-flash, passed away,
And some sank lingering day by day;
The quiet graveyard - some lie there-
And cruel Ocean has his share-
We're not all here.
Fond memory, to her duty true,
Brings back their faded forms to view.
How life-like, through the mist of years,
Each well-remembered face appears!
We see them as in times long past;
From each to each, kind looks are cast;
We hear their words, their smiles behold;
They're round us as they were of old-
We are all here.
We are all here!
Father, mother, sister, brother,
You that I love with love so dear.
This may not long of us be said;
Soon must we join the gathered dead;
And by the hearth we now sit round,
Some other circle will be found,
O, then, that wisdom may we know,
Which yields a life of peace below!
So in the world to follow this,
May each repeat, in words of bliss,
We're all all here!
LOVE it, I love it, and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair! I've treasured it long as a sainted prize I've bedewed it with tears, I've embalmed it with sighs;
'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart, Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would you learn the spell? a mother sat there,
And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair.
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