The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/The Old Church Bells

by Jonathan E. Hoag

The Old Church Bells

As I listen again to the Old Church Bells,
There comes a vision their music tells,
Of the scenes long gone in the old, old times,
As the peals ring loud from the Old Church chimes.

Peal out your vibrant tones as of yore,
While eager feet near the Old Church door,
And reverent souls with dim, bowed head,
Hark to the Word from the pulpit read.

How those bells rang out in the long ago,
When cup and chalice passed to and fro,
And prayers were breathed in an ancient pew,
Whilst fervent in mood the Pastor grew.

On Sabbath morn to the rural sons,
Those peals rang out with their solemn tones;
O'er verdant hills and through shady dells
Pure joy welled up from those Old Church Bells.

Ofttimes beside the flowered bier,
The veil hides many a scalding tear,
While in rhythmic step the Pastor led,
Where 'ashes and dust to dust," was said!

The falling clods of earth in the tomb,
Awake in sorrowing hearts a gloom!
In solemn tread we turn away,
As the shadows fall at close of day.

O joyous Life and closing Death!
'Twas thus decreed ere our souls had breath;
The autumnal, circling, frosted leaf;
The drooping flower—the closing grief!

1921