Tribute to Ancestors
One by one
Two by two
on foot, horseback, wagon train
From across the sea
from Scotland, Wales, England,
the Isle of Green--they came
Slowly, gradually
migrating westward
Until one day, at last,
They reached this place
of youthful promise--
A vernal, trackless forest
A peaceful, pleasant land
Where spring-water, blue pure
and cold, leaped up from the
ground in abundance,
filling creeks and branches.
Soon--sounds of the saw, the axe,
and human voices
Mingled with the wind in the trees
and the song of the birds.
Families began.
Homes sprang up.
They cleared the land, planted crops.
As others came
a need grew strong--
a need for a special place
To worship God in song and praise
A place to gather--
to be together--to seek
strength from one another.
They searched and found
this pleasant hill covered
with wind-singing trees all around
And beneath the hill
a spring blossoming water
from its rim.
This spot then became hallowed
ground--
A place to worship
A place to share--joys
sorrows--to bury their dead.
In time
As the children moved away
a net-work was formed
throughout the land.
So, each year we return
seeking solace, strength from
The Vine--rooted here.
A pensive quiet reigns
among the headstones.
As we walk among
the ones we honor today,
We feel the strength we seek
rooted here beneath these
crumbling stones
Surrounded by ancient trees
that move and breathe
A song
A song of strength
of hope and joy
A song of life!
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