Classic Poem

Now has come the hour of parting,
And we each must seek our home,
May the message of our pastor,
Often to our memory come.

Bless the teachers who would guide us,
Dearest friends, our love they claim,
May we, till our days are ending,
Fan for them affection's flame.

Spare our pastor—may thy message,
Long his time and thoughts engage,
And may we, emerged from childhood,
Rise to bless him in his age.

As our fathers pass to Heaven,
May we rise their place to fill,
And the scholars in thy presence,
Prove a race to serve thee still.

Long, oh long, may grateful praises,
Echo through these aisles we tread;
Long, oh long, the dews of mercy,
On thy vineyard here be shed.

And at last before thy presence,
May we stand in garments bright,
Where no sun or moon are needed,
But the Lamb shall be the light.