Ev'n as we to our childhood's home return,
So come the scattered clans
To visit the ancestral seat where burn
The altar-fires of man's
Unquenched devotion to his race,
And ancient Newbury is such a sacred place.
Here in the early days, when danger lurked
At every turn;
When bush or boulder ruthless worked
Its fatal spell
And tomahawk or flint-sharp arrow fell
On pious Pilgrims unaware;
When every forest covert was the lair
Of prowling wolf or sneaking bear,
Along the pleasant reaches of this stream
Where now, as then, the sunbeams love to gleam,
And sweet reflections dream,
Settled the sturdy Founders, men of mark,
Undaunted, how'er dark
The storm might threaten, whate'er doom
Might strike them from its purple gloom.
God-serving Pilgrims, full of grave intent,
Accepting, solemn glad, their banishment
From England's unmaternal heart,
Here planted they the seed
From which should start
A mighty race to vanquish and to lead.
It were a welcome meed
To ring out in strong lines each yeoman name
Of those high souls who hither came.
From them, by intermarriage, through long years
A thousand thousand woven ties,
The links of mingled destinies,
Cemented by the alchemy of tears
For common sorrows, common fears,
Bind us their children's children subtly clanned.
From all the cities of our splendid land,
From sleepy village and from upland farm
Drawn by a magic charm,
We come to shake the proffered hand
Of brotherhood.
Ah! It is good
To pledge the friendship that shall hold
Our hearts in union pure as gold.
We come to honor the departed,
The great-hearted,
The Founders whose low, mossgrown graves
The quiet river laves.
Silent they lie; but mayhap around us now
Unseen, unheard, a solemn host they bow,
Participating in these festal rites,
Rejoicing in this day and its serene delights.
Hail to you, honored Dead,
Who once with stately tread
Passed these fair streets along!
Ye little knew what strange
Portentous mighty change
Should work to make a pygmy grow into a giant godlike-strong!
How from the feeble fringe
Of white that scarce could tinge
The vast, wide continent
Should spread a nation grand
To occupy the land
In all the length and breadth of its magnificent unknown extent;
That all the tribes of earth
Should here obtain new birth
In liberty and peace;
That wealth beyond compute
Should wax as waxed the fruit
On yonder fields in year to year's ten-million-fold increase.
Hail to you, honored Sires!
A hymn of praise to you shall rise,
Accompanied by a thousand tuneful lyres,
To you the Faithful, you the Pious, you the Good and Wise!
So come the scattered clans
To visit the ancestral seat where burn
The altar-fires of man's
Unquenched devotion to his race,
And ancient Newbury is such a sacred place.
Here in the early days, when danger lurked
At every turn;
When bush or boulder ruthless worked
Its fatal spell
And tomahawk or flint-sharp arrow fell
On pious Pilgrims unaware;
When every forest covert was the lair
Of prowling wolf or sneaking bear,
Along the pleasant reaches of this stream
Where now, as then, the sunbeams love to gleam,
And sweet reflections dream,
Settled the sturdy Founders, men of mark,
Undaunted, how'er dark
The storm might threaten, whate'er doom
Might strike them from its purple gloom.
God-serving Pilgrims, full of grave intent,
Accepting, solemn glad, their banishment
From England's unmaternal heart,
Here planted they the seed
From which should start
A mighty race to vanquish and to lead.
It were a welcome meed
To ring out in strong lines each yeoman name
Of those high souls who hither came.
From them, by intermarriage, through long years
A thousand thousand woven ties,
The links of mingled destinies,
Cemented by the alchemy of tears
For common sorrows, common fears,
Bind us their children's children subtly clanned.
From all the cities of our splendid land,
From sleepy village and from upland farm
Drawn by a magic charm,
We come to shake the proffered hand
Of brotherhood.
Ah! It is good
To pledge the friendship that shall hold
Our hearts in union pure as gold.
We come to honor the departed,
The great-hearted,
The Founders whose low, mossgrown graves
The quiet river laves.
Silent they lie; but mayhap around us now
Unseen, unheard, a solemn host they bow,
Participating in these festal rites,
Rejoicing in this day and its serene delights.
Hail to you, honored Dead,
Who once with stately tread
Passed these fair streets along!
Ye little knew what strange
Portentous mighty change
Should work to make a pygmy grow into a giant godlike-strong!
How from the feeble fringe
Of white that scarce could tinge
The vast, wide continent
Should spread a nation grand
To occupy the land
In all the length and breadth of its magnificent unknown extent;
That all the tribes of earth
Should here obtain new birth
In liberty and peace;
That wealth beyond compute
Should wax as waxed the fruit
On yonder fields in year to year's ten-million-fold increase.
Hail to you, honored Sires!
A hymn of praise to you shall rise,
Accompanied by a thousand tuneful lyres,
To you the Faithful, you the Pious, you the Good and Wise!