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Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

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338 ANNALS OF OUR ANCESTORS<br />

That Almighty Power, that called <strong>the</strong>e forth<br />

And bade <strong>the</strong>e act thy part till called from <strong>of</strong>f<br />

Life's stage. We have no fears for <strong>the</strong>e for thou<br />

Art with It, <strong>the</strong> Oversoul, <strong>the</strong> All, which<br />

Mighty power with<strong>in</strong> us <strong>and</strong> without<br />

We know <strong>and</strong> feel mak<strong>in</strong>g for righteousness.<br />

Thou art relieved, released, set free, enfranchised;<br />

But <strong>the</strong>y who m<strong>our</strong>n <strong>the</strong>e — what <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>m.?<br />

Their load's <strong>in</strong>creased, <strong>the</strong>ir burden greater;<br />

Harder <strong>and</strong> harder still to bear life's pa<strong>in</strong>.<br />

Thou wast <strong>the</strong> object <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir love, to <strong>the</strong>e.<br />

To <strong>the</strong>e <strong>the</strong> parents' hearts turned fond <strong>and</strong> proud.<br />

That love still lives, but thou art not!<br />

Nature's order seems reversed; thou shouldst shed<br />

Upon <strong>the</strong>ir bier thy filial tears, but <strong>the</strong>y.<br />

Instead, now bury <strong>the</strong>e with broken hearts.<br />

They grope <strong>in</strong> darkness, seek<strong>in</strong>g what may<br />

Stay <strong>the</strong>ir souls <strong>and</strong> f<strong>in</strong>d, alas, but this —<br />

The same which <strong>in</strong> his bitter h<strong>our</strong>s, with tears<br />

Repentant <strong>and</strong> abased, <strong>the</strong> warrior k<strong>in</strong>g<br />

Found, as so many s<strong>in</strong>ce his day,<br />

He cannot come to us but we can go<br />

To him.<br />

This afterglow <strong>of</strong> his gifted m<strong>in</strong>d he has left for <strong>our</strong> con-<br />

templation; very soon after writ<strong>in</strong>g this his pen grew still forever.<br />

The month <strong>of</strong> December holds two anniversaries that must<br />

ever br<strong>in</strong>g to Sister Ida <strong>and</strong> me, yes <strong>and</strong> to <strong>the</strong> families <strong>of</strong> <strong>our</strong><br />

two bro<strong>the</strong>rs, a memory that touches <strong>the</strong> deep places <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />

heart with a long sweep on those chords that must echo with<br />

sadness to <strong>the</strong> end <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> j<strong>our</strong>ney. December 19, 1898,<br />

Bro<strong>the</strong>r William passed away from us, all too soon we could<br />

but feel. He was sixty-two <strong>years</strong> old, while <strong>our</strong> people have<br />

generally lived to be past seventy <strong>and</strong> even beyond eighty.<br />

Our dear mo<strong>the</strong>r, however, was but sixty-six when her call<br />

came. Thirteen <strong>years</strong> after Bro<strong>the</strong>r William's death <strong>and</strong><br />

upon ano<strong>the</strong>r December day, <strong>the</strong> twenty-first, <strong>our</strong> younger<br />

bro<strong>the</strong>r, Joseph, left this earth far away upon <strong>the</strong> isl<strong>and</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />

Jamaica. As I f<strong>in</strong>ish <strong>the</strong> last chapter <strong>in</strong> this book <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> year<br />

that took from me my companion <strong>of</strong> more than <strong>fifty</strong> <strong>years</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />

married hfe <strong>and</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> last month <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> year <strong>and</strong> consider that

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