The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales In Verse

T >> Thomas Cowherd >> The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales In Verse

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Rich in possession of the Book Divine,
All I desire is that the Lord would give
Needful instruction, while I scan the line--
The line of truth, on which my soul must live.

For there I read--though Death hath ever reigned
O'er every one of Adam's sinful race--
Righteousness of Christ, by Faith unfeigned,
Delivers from its sting: all of free Grace!

Cease then, my soul, to murmur or complain,
And place thy trust upon the God of Love.
Now look to him who lose from th' grave again,
And reascended to the realms above.

Dread not the stroke, though great may be the pain,
And hard to bear, for it will work thy gain!

III.--A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN DENT.
[Who lost his life by an accident in raising a barn.]

1843.

A task so painful, yet so justly due
To thee, my dear, my much respected Brother,
Rightly devolves on me whose heart beats true
In Zion's cause; yet, would it were another!

But as it is, my Muse, though rude, shall sing--
Used as she is to such a mournful strain--
That I may cause true sympathy to spring
Ere long, for those who feel for thee most pain.

'Tis scarce a week since thou, in manhood's prime,
Of things quite dear to both hadst spoke with me!
'Tis now my lot to tell, in mournful rhyme,
How short a space there was 'twixt Death and thee.

Ere thou wert well aware the fatal dart
Met thee amongst thy fellows, shot by Death;
Ev'n now I feel that dread from friends to part
Methinks thou felt, though thou wast strong in faith.

O, that I could but paint in language strong,
Regarding truth, thy sufferings so severe;
Yes, then I'd sing, in pure and holy song,
Of Him whose presence cheered thee much while here.

"Fear not," saith God, to all his people dear;
Just then thy heart responded, "Fear ye not!"
O, what a precious truth our hearts to cheer!
How sure to reconcile us to our lot.

Now is the time to glorify our God,
Depending on His gracious arm to keep
Each footstep treading in the narrow road.
Nor let us murmur, though constrained to weep
The while o'er those who now in Jesus sleep.

IMPROMPTU.

TO MY FRIEND, J. W----T.

When troubles arise, my friend, lift thine eyes
To that Being who died on the cross!--
Rest assured of this: the Mansions of Bliss
Ne'er were reached without _some seeming_ loss!

AN ADDRESS TO BRANTFORD.

1853.

Hail, truly pleasant, fast increasing Town!
Thee I address, in rude but earnest strains.
My own adopted place! Some sixteen years
Have rolled fast o'er my head since first my eyes
Got sight of thee, from off yon Eastern hill.
How welcome was the sight! O, how cheering,
Grand and beautiful, to a mind like mine!
I oft had heard of thee before I came--
Had heard the name thy beauteous river bears;
As oft had wondered if I e'er should live
To cross the broad Atlantic's deep blue waves,
And reach the shores of that vast Continent,
Whose many wonders, in my boyish days,
I tried to sing, and still longed much to see.
As often tried to picture, in my mind,
The appearance thou presented to the view;
I fancied thee much less than what thou wert--
Consisting of a few small, straggling huts,
Both rude in shape, and ruder far in things
Which make home, what it always ought to be,
_The dearest place that men possess on earth!_
I next would paint thy river deep and broad
As great "Saint Lawrence," or the giant streams
That everywhere abound throughout this land!
In this I was deceived; its name misled
My loving fancy; for I surely thought
It must be great, indeed, beyond compare,
In such a country to receive such name.
[Footnote: The "Grand River."]

This great mistake corrected; I have found
Some wonders rare, though of a different kind;
And often have I wandered on the banks
Of thee, sweet River! where maple, elm or oak
Have spread their boughs and verdant foliage,
And have felt the cool, refreshing breezes
Which blew from off thy stream in Summer's heat.
There I would indulge, awhile, my fancy;
Give her the reins, and let her soar aloft
Into the vast infinitude of space,
Or try to tie her down to earthly things;

Make her portray what now the prospects were,
That this fair Town had placed before her view.
Would she soon rise to eminent estate?
Or would she struggle vainly, for a while,
To reach to greatness, and so just remain--
A monument of ruin and decay?
As I have stood upon the pleasant hills
By which thou art encircled, I have cast
My eye from East to West, from North to South,
And often marked the vast extent of ground
Which thou may'st fill; laid out by God's own hand
To be a glorious city--and that soon!

Then "put thy shoulder to the wheel!" Arise,
In all thy might, and let thy hardy sons
Put forth united efforts in the work.
Deepen thy Canal; let thy Railroads make
Both quick and certain progress; and neglect
No proper means to push the town ahead!

But, while thou strivest thus in temporal things,
Oh, forget not things of greater moment!
Strive to purge away all that's offensive
To true Virtue. Let the _groggeries_ cease
To deal out liquid fire to kill thy sons!
Strengthen the hands of those who would maintain
Good wholesome laws. Give adequate support
To those who minister in holy things,
That they, unfettered, may aloud proclaim
Christ's great Salvation to a ruined World!
Let all true Christians in thy midst unite,
In holy efforts and God's strength, to stem
The torrent great of foul Iniquity.
Yes, fellow Christians, let our lives be such
As many commend the Truth which we believe,
Unto the consciences of all around.
Let those of us, especially, who claim
A parent's honored name, now boldly stand,
And show in bonds conjugal, faithfulness;
Still manifesting love and tenderness
Unto our partners; always aim to make
Our homes the scenes of happiness and peace!
Then will our children rise and call us blessed;
And generations yet unborn will tell--
That Brantford was determined to be great
In every thing which is both wise and good!

STANZAS.

WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER SEEING THE "HURON" LOCOMOTIVE, FOR THE FIRST
TIME, AT CAINSVILLE, JANUARY 6, 1854.

[Footnote: This piece was the second that was printed in a Brantford
paper, I would here take the opportunity to say that Henry Lemmon,
Esq., of the _Courier_, though differing from me in politics, was
exceedingly courteous in giving my rhymes free admission into his
journal. The same testimony I also willingly hear to the late
_Herald_, and the _Expositor_, still flourishing.]

The Iron Horse has reached at last Cayuga's heights so near;
Look out, ye men of Brantford, now, for soon he will be here!
He brings with him a weighty load, his way before him feels,
As slowly o'er the new-laid track he moves his ponderous wheels.

Mechanics, use your utmost skill, and ply each brawny arm,
Let sight of yon huge iron steed your very heart's-blood warm;
Nor let cold Winter's raging storms your progress now retard,
But quickly get the bridges built; nor doubt a rich reward.

Be steady, men! the hammers lift, send home the sturdy nails;
Make every fixture quite secure, and solid lay the rails;
'Tis done right well! and now, again, the Monster moves along,
But cautiously, for fear the work should not prove very strong.

He does resemble very much the mighty Elephant,
That let our new-made wooden bridge his courage sadly daunt;
Who, when he came to cross the stream which flows right through our
town,
Did fancy his great clumsy foot would break the fabric down.

So slowly moves this horse along, but soon his speed he'll quicken--
Nor care a straw though Winter's snow right in his track may thicken;
For when the works are finished well, he'll seem to snuff the breeze,
And fly at such a rapid rate as may his masters please.

Look out, ye men of Brantford, now! See, he has reached your doors;
He heaves and pants, he snorts and looks to sweat through all his
pores;
And yet he stands in harness trim, not cares a fig for rest,
But is quite ready still to move, and waits but your behest.

And now, above his whistle shrill, is heard a deafening noise--
The people all, in loud hurrahs, give vent to heartfelt joys;
The cannon roars, while all around is vigorous effort made
To make this Celebration throw all others in the shade!

Processions form, the banners wave; now mark those hardy Bands--
The Fire Brigade--who well deserve much honor at our hands;
For they in war-like deeds excel, yet not in bloody fight--
The battle with destroying fire, by day as well as night!

These form, with others in their rear, a very numerous host;
The Marshal gives command, and now each company takes its post;
The drums are beat, sweet music fills the ear with much delight,
And splendid Fireworks are prepared to grace the coming night.

O, ye who have the management of this most glorious _fete_,
My Muse would your attention crave, and earnestly entreat,
That you would not forget the poor, but give to them a share
Of all your choicest eatables, as much as you can spare.

And let them have a good supply of tea and coffee, too;
They well deserve as rich a treat as either I or you;
For do they not, with constant toil, such works as this complete?
Then welcome them unto the board, and bid them freely eat.

Now I will close my hasty rhyme, with earnest wish expressed,
That all our town would well behave to each and every guest;
Let all our conduct on that day be orderly and quiet,
And none lay out a single cent in drunkenness and riot.

THE YOUNG MOTHER'S VISION

1854.

I saw a fair young mother sitting,
With a babe upon her knee;
Fast through 'er mind sweet thoughts were flitting--
So it did appeal to me.

Her eyes with fondest smiles were beaming
On that infant's lovely face;
She seemed upon the future dreaming,
And I tried her dream to trace.

While her face with love was glowing,
As her babe looked up and smiled;
Thus I sketched her numbers flowing
Freely forth unto her child:

"Charming boy, in beauty vieing
With the fairest rose I see;
This I need not be denying,
That thou dearer art to me.

"Whilst thou slept, I fell to musing
On thy present happy lot;
And thy future for thee choosing,
Soon all other thoughts forgot.

"Thus I chose at first to paint thee--
Growing up toward thy teens;
No corruption near to taint thee
Passing through thy boyish scenes.

"Then I traced out all the labor
Which I would bestow on thee,
That thou mightest grow in favor
With the Lord, as well as me.

"Next I viewed thy mind expanding,
With the best of knowledge stored:
Light divine, and understanding
Gained from God's most holy Word.

"Years flew by; thou wert approaching
Very near to man's estate,
And, to those, around, wert broaching
Thy deep thoughts, with soul elate!

"Again I saw thee; thou wert coming
To the heights of world-wide fame;
My fears arose, I saw ills looming,
And bid thee guard thy spotless name.

"I looked again, and found thee wooing
Damsel modest, rich and fair;
And wicked men sought thy undoing,
Ere thou wert the least aware.

"But, thanks to God! He did preserve thee--
Gave thee, too, a lovely wife;
For duty this afresh did nerve thee,
Struggling with the ills of life.

"Again the vision passed before me,
But some years had fled away;
Thou hadst been sick, the Lord restored thee--
Children were around at play.

"I saw thy wife and thee were growing
In sweetest chaste conjugal love;
To things of God attention showing,
Fitting you for bliss above.

"The curtain drops: thy smiles recall me
To discharge my duties right;
Rich mercies I enjoy console me
For the loss of Vision bright."

STANZAS.

TO THE AUTHOR OF "LITTLE RAGGED NED, AN ORPHAN."

1854.

Friend, I've read thy touching verses
Poured from gentle, loving heart,
Glad that sense of thy own mercies
Gives thee-zeal to act thy part
In bringing sweet, poetic art
To bear upon the orphan's case,
And show as by a sunbeam's trace
How such as he are made to smart.

Would I had thy skill in writing;
I would give thee tribute meet,
Showing those too fond of slighting
Th' orphan's cause, that it is sweet,
Pure modest worth with love to greet,
Though that worth may not appear
In form bedecked in gorgeous gear,
But one in tattered garb complete.

Well indeed hast thou depicted
What the ragged boy endured;
How his soul with grief afflicted
Could alone by One be cured.
O, would that such could be allured
At once to fly to Jesus' arms--
To prove how great are all his charms;
And thus have peace of mind ensured.

Poor dear ragged orphan, weep not;
There is one thy Friend above.
Know then that this Friend will sleep not
But watch over thee in love.
He will thy foes in wrath reprove.
For this he strongly pledged his word,
Which should true comfort thee afford
Till death all thy sad woes remove.

Did thy mother die confiding
In the Saviour's precious blood?
'Neath that covert be thou hiding,
If thy soul would seek its good.
Yes, dearest child, have faith in God,
Then the rich blessings he can give
Will all be thine while thou dost live;
As from the Word is understood.

I would join this friend and others.
Who have hearts and feelings right,
To acknowledge for our brothers
Such as thou; though foulest spite
May be displayed in earnest quite,
By those who are so fond of self
That they cant spare a little pelf
To make your saddened faces bright.

I SAW A YOUTHFUL MOTHER LIE

I saw a youthful mother lie
Upon the bed of death.
No bitter tears bedimmed her eye
Though parents, spouse, and friends were nigh,
Expecting her last breath.

And when a little daughter came
To see her mother dear,
She did not call her child by name,
But, quite composed, appeared the same
As if she were not near.

I asked myself what made her act
In this way to her kin?
Was her poor frame with torture racked,
Or was it consciousness she lacked,
Or dreadful fears within?

I well divine 'twas none of these
Concerned this mother's mind.
'Tis true her cough gave her no ease,
That she was sinking from disease,
And was to all resigned.

O, was it the dear Saviour's call
That she was listening to?
It was, and rapture filled her soul,
Feeling content to leave them all,
With heaven in her view.

And then, by some strong impulse led,
She wished us next to sing.
We sang the praise of him who bled
On Calvary in the sinner's stead,
That he to us might bring

Salvation from both sin and hell,
A song she much admitted,
And one on which she loved to dwell;
One suited to her case so well
That of true joy inspired.

And oh, methought were she but strong,
She would have raised her voice
To join us in that pleasing song,
And let it waft her soul along
To Him who was her choice.

Yet doubtless then her spirit sung,
Yea joined us too in prayer;
And now her golden harp is strung
Which will ne'er be "on willows hung,"
In weakness or despair.

FAMILY PIECES

TO MY BELOVED WIFE, DURING AFFLICTION, 1842.

Ann, we have lived in peace for three long years.
Much pleasure we have had, some crosses too;
Enough to show that in this Vale of Tears
Affliction's needed still to bring us through.

Why should it not be so? Our God is good;
He also wise, and better far doth know
What's best for us, and if we understood
Our interest well we should confess it so.

A man both wise and good did once aver--
"At th' hands of God we have received good;
And shall not we, who are so prone to err,
Receive our evil too, as best we should?"

My dearest Ann, let not your spirits down,
But with me kiss the rod that God hath sent
His promise is that he will not disown
Those dear to him, though by sore troubles bent.

O, that the sacred influence of truth
Which we profess may ever dwell within;
That we may bear the yoke now in our youth,
And always flee the devious paths of sin.

O, that the Holy Book which does contain
The greatest charter our kind God can grant,
May prove to be like precious heavenly rain
To nourish, strengthen, and keep us from want.

Then, hand in hand in unity and love,
In holiness we'll walk before our God,
And have affections fixed on things above,
Our feet with "gospel preparation shod."

And thus may we hold on Life's journey through;
Nor e'er forsake pure Wisdom's sacred path.
Still as we journey always keep in view
Those glorious things "the righteous nation" hath.

In sure and certain prospect, far beyond
In point of worth this world and all its toys,
Treasure in heaven, beside the blissful sound
Of Jesus' voice, with sweetest heavenly joys.

And may our children all likewise receive
The richest dews of heavenly blessing now.
O, may the Lord make each of them believe
The gospel pure, and to its teachings bow.

And then indeed should we be called to part
While in this world, we all shall meet above,
Where we with every power and all our heart
Will praise the Saviour's name and sing his love.

O, blest, blest thought! through vast Eternity
In purest bliss and holiness to dwell.
There our glad eyes shall Jesus ever see,
And hear the Saints his greatest wonders tell.

TO MY DAUGHTER MARY ANN, ASLEEP.

1842.

Sweetly asleep is Mary Ann,
In calmest infantile repose
Her lovely face no longer wan,
Seems lovelier still when in a doze.

Sleep on, my babe, I'll not disturb,
Thy silent rest I love to view;
For now thou needest not the curb
I use in trying to subdue

Thy peevish temper, which, I ween
Needs constant care from me, thy site,
While through thy childish ways are seen
Thy passions strong in wildest fire.

Sleep on, my child, some future day
May see thee walking in God's ways.
For this great blessing will I pray
Still guided by the Truth's clear rays.

Sleep on, my little girl, till morn,
And when awake pursue thy play;
Yet, when grown up, may'st thou adorn
The sphere in which thou mov'st by day.

Sleep on, my daughter, sleep in peace.
Thou has been toiling through the day.
Thy little tongue doth seldom cease
From talking much in thy own way.

Sleep on, sweet prattler, and may bright
Angelic Spirits guard thee round,
Till Sol with his resplendent light
Doth break thy slumbers quite profound.

Yes, sleep, my child, through every night,
As fast revolving years proceed.
By day enjoy the heavenly light,
Of which we in the Bible read.

But oh, sleep not when duties bid
My girl awake to run the race
Which Christians run, when thorns amid
May make her see her need of Grace.

And oh, sleep not in ways of sin,
For dangers lurk with serpent wiles;
And false security within,
Each unsuspecting mind beguiles.

And when the solemn time arrives
For thee to sleep in death at peace,
And thy pure spirit strongly strives
To gain her longed-for wished release,

O, may she mount to yon abode
Where God's blest Saints and Angels dwell;
And there rejoice in him who trode
The path to death to save from hell.

TO ELLEN AND WILLIE.

Ellen, my prattler dear,
Willie, my darling boy,
My children need not fear,
They shall my gift employ.

To you, by great neglect,
I have no rhyme addressed.
This you would scarce expect,
So much you've been caressed.

For it I now will try
To make amends quite ample,
And trust the time is nigh
When you can read this sample.

Ellen, I think I see
That thou resemblest mother;
Thou'rt not so much like me
As Willie, thy young brother.

One thing I wish you both,
That you in your behaviour
Like her, may not be loath
To follow Christ, the Saviour.

For never have I seen
One of a lovelier spirit;
No mortals do, I ween,
Such loveliness inherit.

She was of temper mild,
Was often smiling sweetly,
In malice was a child,
As a Christian walked discreetly.

To have this said of you
Would give your father pleasure.
It would be worth, if true,
To me a world of treasure.

So Ellen, prattler dear,
Willie, my darling boy,
While father's stay is here,
O, fill his heart with joy.

As soon as you can read,
Peruse the Bible's page,
And to your ways take heed
As you advance in age.

Then to the Savior fly,
Who, only, you can save
From woes that never die,
In death beyond the grave.

That we may meet at last
In Heaven, that happy place,
When every storm is past,
To view our Jesus' face.

TO MR. AND MRS. C. BATTY.

1847.

Parents-in-law, a Rhymer much in debt
Deems it full time to try his debts to pay;
And as some large arrears are standing yet,
To give this mite I will no more delay.

And if I cannot make a full discharge,
Perhaps I may induce you to forbear,
For though this portion is not very large,
'Tis quite as much as I can freely spare.

Preliminaries settled, I proceed
To seek the assistance of my humble Muse;
Well knowing that she will in time of need
Give forth such numbers as you'll not refuse.

Impelled by gratitute for kindness shown,
I bless my God I now so long have known
That sweet connection in which I have stood
With you and yours. Thoughts of it make the blood
Run freely through my veins; they cheer my mind,
Revive my spirits, make me leave behind
Vile carking cares, dispel my melancholy,
Fire my devotion with desires most holy,

Fill my sad soul! Thus am I drawn away,
And in imagination soar to-day
To those blest regions where my Ann has gone,
And feel that even now I'm not alone.
For her pure spirit is with mine
Holding fellowship divine.
Hark! she whispers in the skies,
"Let thy prayers to Heaven arise;
Let thy songs ascend above;
Sing evermore Redeeming Love;
For all those who here do enter
Cleave to Jesus as their Centre,
And we now on holy ground
Join in one unceasing round
Of purest pleasure, and do raise
Our voices in the Saviour's praise
And thus throughout Eternity
Dwell in sweetest harmony.
To all my kindred I would say.
Work while 'tis called 'to-day.'
Always listen to the voice
Of Jesus, and in him rejoice.
Make his righteousness your boast,
For without it you are lost.
Listen now, he calls to-day;
Flee, Oh, flee to him away!"
She ceased to speak, and back her spirit fled
To yon bright Mansions where her Saviour led;
And we are left confined in tents of clay,
To "groan, being burdened," for Redemption's day.
Oh, then, dear parents, let us not forget
The "still small voice" of Mercy's speaking yet.
Let us put on afresh our heavenly armor,
The Christian warfare is but growing warmer.
Should our weak courage fail, let us in meekness
Look still to him who gives us strength in weakness.
And thus supported, may our lives declare
How blest the portion which through grace we share.

TO MY INFANT ANNIE.

1847.

Motherless babe, I can't forbear to make
Some rhyme to thee for thy dear mother's sake.
Thy pleasant looks, thy smiles, thy temper mild
Do much surprise me in so young a child.
In thy sweet face I view in embryo
My lost wife's charms; it is, it must be so.
Quiet thy ways, and smiling oft through tears,
An earnest surely this for future years,
That the same lovely conduct may be shown
Which marked thy mother's life, as is well known.
Then as thou dost advance to womanhood,
May God's own Word by thee be understood.
Can I look forward to the time
When thou shalt reach a woman's prime?
When youth and beauty, linked with grace
May beam forth from thy smiling face?
Alas, the future, hid from sight
Of all but Him who dwells in light,
May see us numbered with the dead.
And knowing this may I be led
To train my children in the way
That leads to Heaven's eternal day.

STANZAS.

IN MEMORY OF ANNIE, DIED JULY 11, 1847.

Thou'rt gone, thou lovely gem, I trust
To grace the crown of Zion's King;
And we thy body to the dust
Commit with faith unwavering.

Thou wast just long enough with us
To charm our hearts and claim our low;
And now thou'rt gone. Why is it thus?
Did Jesus need thy soul above?

For twenty weeks thy lovely face,
Thy pleasing smiles, thy temper mild,
Have made thy father hope to trace
The mother in her darling child.

And yet thou hast for some time seemed
Too fair a flower to bloom below.
Thy death but proves our Father deemed
It best that thou in Heaven should'st grow.

And knowing, as I well may know
That this vain world is full of trial,
I would not say against the blow,
Though it may cause me self-denial.

Now, while I write, my thoughts ascend
More fleetly than the lightning's flame
To that blest place where lowly bend
God's saints, In worship of his name.

And there methinks I see thee join
With mother and a numerous throng.
In praise of Him who is Divine,
To whom all honor does belong.

Why should we grudge to part with thee?
Thou went our Heavenly father's own;
And he far better knows than we
What's best to do, as will be shown.

And yet it seems so hard to part--,
To part with those we love so dearly,
That, though the keenness of the smart
Is gone through Jesus' death most clearly,

We cannot help but mourn and weep
At losing for a time such treasure.
But we'll, rejoice that those who sleep
In Christ, shall, in unbounded measure,

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