Poems (Hoffman)/Pacific Grove
PACIFIC GROVE
(Dedicated to the Methodist Episcopal Annual Conference, meeting at Pacific Grove.)
Again the pines wave welcome at our coming;
The waves sound forth glad ecstasies of greeting,
And like an old-time friend, Pacific Grove
Makes room for all the joyous throng, who love
Her sea-breeze, where in blended charms are meeting
Fragrance of flowers and church-bell's mellow chiming.
The waves sound forth glad ecstasies of greeting,
And like an old-time friend, Pacific Grove
Makes room for all the joyous throng, who love
Her sea-breeze, where in blended charms are meeting
Fragrance of flowers and church-bell's mellow chiming.
Once more we look in kind, familiar faces,
And clasp glad hands,
And see friends meet who have grown wiser, older,
In distant lands.
For Thou, O Lord, who formed this resting spot,
Thou only changest not.
Though storms dissolve the beach's granite bowlder
To shifting sand, that at their mercy rolls,
They enter not thy temple's holiest places
In human souls.
And clasp glad hands,
And see friends meet who have grown wiser, older,
In distant lands.
For Thou, O Lord, who formed this resting spot,
Thou only changest not.
Though storms dissolve the beach's granite bowlder
To shifting sand, that at their mercy rolls,
They enter not thy temple's holiest places
In human souls.
A little while to gather living pleasures,
Like flowers from crag and cliff,
And cast old care, like sea-weed on the billows
To drag and drift.
"Peace," is the motto of this seaside nest;
Fold tired wings and aching hearts, and rest;
World-weary brains find sleep on Nature's pillows
By blossoms overgrown,
And leave to heaven the earth-begotten treasures
Thy human heart has known.
Like flowers from crag and cliff,
And cast old care, like sea-weed on the billows
To drag and drift.
"Peace," is the motto of this seaside nest;
Fold tired wings and aching hearts, and rest;
World-weary brains find sleep on Nature's pillows
By blossoms overgrown,
And leave to heaven the earth-begotten treasures
Thy human heart has known.
Again the pines wave welcome!
Shall we, coming, bring hearts alive to swell
At artist's visions, poet's inspiration—
The true musician's spell?
Souls with the Christian's heaven-born hope attune,
And from the earliest dawn to night's high noon,
In street and temple—by the grand old ocean—
We shall see pictures, feel immortal poems, hear God's Recessional.
Shall we, coming, bring hearts alive to swell
At artist's visions, poet's inspiration—
The true musician's spell?
Souls with the Christian's heaven-born hope attune,
And from the earliest dawn to night's high noon,
In street and temple—by the grand old ocean—
We shall see pictures, feel immortal poems, hear God's Recessional.