SOMBER THOUGHTS  from the John Pierpont, Author of Jingle Bells (Savannah, Georgia)

Dying Thoughts.

And in my dying hour,

When riches, fame and honor have no power

To bear the spirit up,

Or from my lips to turn aside the cup

. That all must drink at last,

Oh, let me draw refreshment from the past !

Then let my soul run back,

With peace and joy, along my earthly track

And see that all the seeds

That I have scattered there, in virtuous deeds

Have sprung up, and have given,

Already, fruits of which to taste is Heaven !

And though no grassy mound

Or granite pile say ’tis heroic ground

Where my remains repose,

Still will I hope—vain hope, perhaps !—that those

Whom I have striven to bless—

The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless—

May stand around my grave

With the poor prisoner and the poorer slave,

And breathe an humble prayer

That they may die like him whose bones are moldering

there. ) —JOHN PIERPONT.