I have
no happy tale to tell for this period was filled with woe and pain.
I will not enumerate further the trials I had to undergo day after
day, but will pass rapidly on until the gladsome note was sounded by
our hostess Mrs. Pritchard the "police are here." God delivered us
again.
It is unnecessary to itemize in detail what passed from that time
until I reached Ontario. I have told my tale, simple and truthful, and
what remains for me now is my old home, my old associations, and my
old life--the lines are hard to bear--"Thy will not mine be done."
Once I thought my cross to heavy,
And my heart was sore afraid,
Summoned forth to stand a witness
For the cause of truth betrayed.
"Send, O Lord," I prayed, "some Simon,
As of old was sent to Thee."
"Be a Simon," said the Master,
"For this cross belongs to me."
Still is crucified my Saviour,
I myself must a Simon be;
Take my cross and walk humbly
Up the slopes of Calvary.
TO ONE OF THE ABSENT.
You bade me good-bye with a smile, love,
And away to the west wild and drear;
At the sound of war's bugle shrill calling
You went without shadow of fear.
But when I complained of your going,
To face dangers untold in the west;
You chided me gently by singing:
"Encourage me dear 'twill be best."
"I know you will miss me each hour
And grieve when I'm far, far away:
But its duty's demand and I'm ready:
Could I show the white feather to-day?
Oh! Now, you're my own bright eyed blessing
And show the true spirit within:
Those eyes now so fearlessly flashing
Shall guide me through war's crash and din.
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