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We are known to our fathers by different traits of character. Our fellow townsman had a rare faculty of making friends with all classes of society. The words of Sam Walter Foss come to my mind in this connection:
“Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by;
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
"I would not sit in a scoffer's seat
Or hurl a cynic's ban.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man."
A natural outcome of his ability to make friends was his constant desire to be of service to his friends, to the unfortunate and needy and unemployed. His heart went out to the man who found it hard to make ends meet. He always seemed to be at his best when he could help somebody. While he never was a Boy Scout, he had learned to do a good turn daily. Moreover, he carried his friends' well-being on his heart, and out of a clear sky conferred many favors and kindnesses.
The genuine and sincere hospitality of this man and his good wife could not be surpassed. They were gracious hosts and left no stone unturned to make their friends feel at home both here and in Washington. This trait can best be expressed by one wordothers.
"Lord, help me live from day to day
In such a self-forgetful way
That, even when I kneel to pray,
My prayer shall be for others.
"And when my work on earth is done
And my new work in heaven's begun,
While thinking still of others."
One of the finest examples of teamwork that I have witnessed was that which existed between our fellow townsman and his wife. They shared their daily experiences. There was a delightful give and take, both in the home and public office. His heartaches and disappointments, his joys and successes have been hers. May God's richest blessing and his divine comfort and the peace which passeth all understanding ever be hers. May the memory of this many-sided man continue to bless and inspire her and us as the years come and go.
If he could say a few words, I feel sure that he would couch them in the words of Robert Louis Stevenson:
"Though he that, ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you
Your whole long, gusty lifetime through,
Be now a moment gone before,
Yet, doubt not, soon the season shall restore
Your friend to you.
"He has but turned a corner; still
He pushes on with right good will
Through mire and marsh, by heuch and hill
That self-same upland hopeful way,
That you and he through many a doubtful day
"He is not dead, this friend; not dead,
But, in the path we mortals tread,
Got some few trifling steps ahead,
And nearer to the end,
So that you too, once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend
You fancy dead.
"Push gayly on, strong heart! The while
You travel forward mile by mile,
He loiters with a backward smile,
Till you can overtake,
And straining his eyes, to search his wake,
Mankind has always believed in the immortality of the soul. He knew that his work was not done. He leaves it for others to complete. Now, we must learn the discipline of living with the spirit of our loved ones and friends. Death is all gain to him. It is true that we have lost the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand and the joy of his fellowship. But, we must carry on and bring to pass his ideals and unrealized dreams. This makes us richer in capacities for understanding and service in helping others and stronger because we have shared a common
"There is no death! the stars go down
"There is no death! the forest leaves
The hungry moss they bear.
"There is no death! the dust we tread
Shall change, beneath the summer showers,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
"There is no death! the leaves may fall
"And near us, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread,
For all the boundless universe
Is life there are no dead."
PRAYER AND POEMS PRESENTED BY REV. ALBERT I. OLIVER, MINISTER OF THE CENTENARY METHODIST CHURCH, SKOWHEGAN, MAINE
(A poem by John Oxenham)
The night is very black and grim,
But on the rim of the curtain dim
A pulsing beam, a tiny gleam,
Whispers of God's tomorrow.
Beyond the night there shines a light,
Our eyes are dim with sorrow
But Faith still clings, and Hope still springs,
And Love still sings of happier things,
For Life is flighting strong new wings
In search of God's tomorrow.
O God, Lord and Father of us all, we turn to Thee in our need, for in Thee we may find help that no one else can give. We realize that Thou hast wondrously endowed us with gifts of body, mind, and soul to enable us to attend to the duties of life as we make our way on through the years. But in an hour like this, we discover that all these ordinary powers of ours are quite inadequate to meet the more serious experiences of life, to solve its more difficult problems, and to face these great realities of life and death and immortality. So we turn to Thee, and pray that
Thou wilt bestow upon us in this hour Thy divine help, granting unto us the strength and wisdom and courage as Thou seest there is need.
Our hearts are heavy as we think of the things that are notbut we find comfort and peace in our confidence in the things that still are. We believe that Thou art, that Thou art Father of us all, that we are Thy children, and that we may come to Thee as any child turns to its parent for comfort, protection, and help. Faith is still ours, and hope, and love. Friendship is ours, and life is ours. We cling to these things that still are, and thank Thee for these great gifts.
We thank Thee for this man, for his courageous spirit, for his busy, active days, for the outreach of his life out beyond himself, into the needs and interests of other lives. We thank Thee that we live in a land where a life like his is possible, a land where life may be freely expressed as his was in so many different directions of value.
And now we pray that Thy richest blessing may rest upon this entire company of people assembled here this day. May Thy spirit come to these friends and neighbors who by their presence and gifts of flowers are seeking to express their sympathy for those who mourn his loss. Thank God for our friends who stand by in our hours of need-this is a gift of life that really is. May Thy spirit, too, rest upon these who have been associated with him in town and State and Nation-these with whom he has taken counsel in the guidance of civic affairs. And upon those who belong to the inner circle of family life-those, who by ties of blood and marriage, stand a little nearer to his life-upon these may Thy spirit rest in abundant measure. And especially upon her who, as his companion, shared with him the cares and responsibilities of his life, may Thy spirit come with comforting power, upholding her and keeping her not only in this present hour but in the days to come.
Upon us all may Thy spirit rest, prompting us so to live that when life shall close for us we shall be entitled to the approval of those who have known us best, as well as Thy divine favor.
We ask all this in the name of our Lord and Master Jesus Christ.
GOOD-BYE, TILL MORNING
"Good-bye, till morning come again";
But night is short, and hope is sweet;
And so we sing the old refrain,
"Good-bye, till morning come again."
"Good-bye, till morning come again";
Memorial address on the life and character of Thomas Brackett Reed, former Speaker of the United States House of Representatives, in the house of representatives at Augusta, Maine, at a joint session of the Maine Legislature on January 28, 1903 REMARKS OF HON. CLYDE H. SMITH, REPRESENTATIVE FROM HARTLAND Your Excellency and gentlemen of the assembly: It is not my purpose to attempt any extended eulogy on the illustrious life work of this illustrious statesman. It is not for me to seek to penetrate the veil and speak of him in that sphere as husband and father, as neighbor or townsman. More eloquent lips than mine can tell that which was his noblest calling and highest attainment; his love and affection for family and home. Others are here to tell the story of his kindness and loyalty to friend and kinsman. It is sufficient for me to contribute but a word, to bring a single flower of tender memory, to add my little wreath of affectionate admiration in behalf of his sacred memory. Who of us that have not observed while scanning the blue heavens above, with her millions of sparkling worlds, scattered sparingly here and there, a majestic star, pouring forth her richer and more radiant rays, surpassing all others. How true we find this of mankind. The laws of creation, having heir to us now and then a great and natural leader, towering far above his fellow beings, conspicuous among the distinguished sons reared from the rugged hills of the old Pine Tree State, is one whose name is not only familiar to the children of our every village, hamlet, and town, but of the South beneath her sunny skies, in distant California amid her fields of golden rocks, and yea, in far away New Zealand the name of Thomas Brackett Reed is written there.
A soldier has fallen. A hero is dead. Not while on the battlefield, amid the rush of contending parties; nor while in gallant leadership, leading his party onward and onward in her every charge, with victory ever in hand, for he had laid down the gavel, and ceased to participate in the great political arena of his life. But we can never forget how we have known of him in this very hall, a leader of leaders, champion of champions. How we have known of him at Washington, confronted with the fiery blasts of jealousy and a divided house. How we have known of him as