Classic Poem

To the far-distant shore, the utter past,
He was our link; he brought us all the good
There is in old-time things, and made them good
By his example. Now our bark has slipped
Its moorings, and we try the unknown sea,
Assured that when the Haven of Peace is found,
Where'er it be, we shall regain our lost!

O truest man, one in a thousand men!
O generous heart! O trusty, faithful heart!
How in our hearts indelibly is drawn
The record of thy virtues, many and pure,
Twin record with the register in Heaven,
Whose penman is, O joy, the Omniscient God!
He made our Brother, made him of the clay,
So sacred hence to virtue and to us!