Greeting Hymn.

Written for the Alumni of Albion College, Michigan; and sung at their last re-union, June, 1881.


The gliding years have rolled along,
    And once again we come,
With greeting hand and choral song,
    To our old college-home; -
Sweet college-home! dear college-home!
    We gladly gather here,
            Old friends to greet,
            Old faces meet,
    And sing our songs of cheer!

A welcome true for those we meet,
    For those we miss, a sigh;
Of some we ne'er again may greet,
    We speak with tearful eye;
Some rest with God, whose feet once trod
    These halls with ours of yore;
            And some there are
            Who wander far
    On many a distant shore!

God, bless and keep the ones who roam,
    And us who meet again;
And lit us each for that bright home
    Where comes no parting pain; -
Oh, aid us still, thro' good or ill
    Still earnest for the right,
            With spirits true,
            To dare and do,
    With Heaven and thee in sight!

And as the lingering years go by,
And changeful seasons come,
Still let thine eye rest lovingly
    On this old college-home; -
Sweet college-home! dear college-home!
    We gladly gather here,
            Old friends to meet,
            Old faces greet,
    And sing our songs of cheer!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

The Voice Of Spring

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Caged Bird's Song.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Balmy Morning

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Eloise.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

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The Old Church Choir

    I am slowly treading the mazy track
That leadeth, through sunshine and shadows, back -
Through freshest meads where the dews yet cling
As erst they did to each lowly thing,
Where flowers bloom and where streamlets flow
With the tender music of long ago -
To the far-off past that, through mists of tears,
In its spring time loveliness still appears,
And wooes me back to the gleaming shore
Of sunny years that return no more.

    And to night, all weary, and sad, and lone,
I return in thought to those bright years flown,
Whose lingering sweetness, e'en yet, I feel
Like the breath of flower-scents over me steal
I am treading o'er mounds where the dead repose, -
I am stirring the dust of life's perished rose, -
I am rustling the withered leaves that lie

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

The Reunion

The gulf of seven and fifty years
We stretch our welcoming hands across;
The distance but a pebble's toss
Between us and our youth appears.

For in life's school we linger on
The remnant of a once full list;
Conning our lessons, undismissed,
With faces to the setting sun.

And some have gone the unknown way,
And some await the call to rest;
Who knoweth whether it is best
For those who went or those who stay?

And yet despite of loss and ill,
If faith and love and hope remain,
Our length of days is not in vain,
And life is well worth living still.

Still to a gracious Providence
The thanks of grateful hearts are due,
For blessings when our lives were new,
For all the good vouchsafed us since.

The pain that spared us...

John Greenleaf Whittier

The Parting Song - Festival Of The Alumni, 1857

The noon of summer sheds its ray
On Harvard's holy ground;
The Matron calls, the sons obey,
And gather smiling round.


CHORUS.
Then old and young together stand,
The sunshine and the snow,
As heart to heart, and hand in hand,
We sing before we go!


Her hundred opening doors have swung
Through every storied hall
The pealing echoes loud have rung,
"Thrice welcome one and all!"
Then old and young, etc.

We floated through her peaceful bay,
To sail life's stormy seas
But left our anchor where it lay
Beneath her green old trees.
Then old and young, etc.

As now we lift its lengthening chain,
That held us fast of old,
The rusted rings grow bright again, -
Their iron turns to gold.
Then old and young,...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Harvard Odes.

I.

(Feb. 23, 1869.)

Fair Harvard, dear guide of our youth's golden days;
At thy name all our hearts own a thrill,
We turn from life's .highways, its business, its cares,
We are boys in thy tutelage still.
And the warm blood of youth to our veins, as of yore,
Returns with impetuous flow,
Reviving the scenes and the hopes that were ours
In the vanished, but sweet Long Ago.

Once more through thy walks, Alma Mater, we tread,
And we dream youth's fair dreams once again,
We are heroes in fight for the Just and the Right,
We are knights without fear, without stain;
Its doors in fair prospect the world opens wide,
Its prizes seem easy to win,--
We are strong in our faith, we are bold in our might,
And we long for the race to begin.

Th...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

A Parting Hymn.

Father in Heaven, to thee,
    Guardian and friend,
Lowly the suppliant knee
    Here would we bend! -
Blessing thee ere we part,
Each with a grateful heart,
    For all thy love doth send -
Plenteous and free!

Thanks for thy hand outspread
    Ever in power
O'er each defenceless head
    In danger's hour!
Thanks for the light arid love,
From thy full fount above -
    A rich and constant shower,
O'er us still shed!

Go thou with us, we pray,
    Whom duties call
To our high tasks away,
    Each one, and all, -
Go, with thy Spirit's might,
Go, with thy Gospel's light
    - Whatever may befall -
With us alway

Now let thy blessing rest
    On us anew -
Brother, and friend, and guest,
    Tri...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

A Welcome To Lowell

Take our hands, James Russell Lowell,
Our hearts are all thy own;
To-day we bid thee welcome
Not for ourselves alone.

In the long years of thy absence
Some of us have grown old,
And some have passed the portals
Of the Mystery untold;

For the hands that cannot clasp thee,
For the voices that are dumb,
For each and all I bid thee
A grateful welcome home!

For Cedarcroft's sweet singer
To the nine-fold Muses dear;
For the Seer the winding Concord
Paused by his door to hear;

For him, our guide and Nestor,
Who the march of song began,
The white locks of his ninety years
Bared to thy winds, Cape Ann!

For him who, to the music
Her pines and hemlocks played,
Set the old and tender story
Of the lorn Acadia...

John Greenleaf Whittier