THE BROKEN CHAIN
[written by George Oxford Gunter age 20 for sister Mary Kelly Gunter Brown after her death age 17 in childbirth]
Alas! the golden chain is broken,
The chain that bound our hearts in love,
Its links were smiles and deeds and kind words spoken,
Its strength, affection pure as the golden streets above.
Within its happy circle charmed,
Together, the joys and sorrows of our lives we shared
Within the portals of our home with love and virtue armed,
No bitter strife, no demon of disgrace we feared.
Oh! that for one moment the curtain might be lifted
That the happiness of that home, the world might see and feel;
For no human pen, no mortal tongue, however gifted
Can describe those joys so pure and real.
Oh! that to me the power were given to display,
The gilded pictures on memories walls engraven there;
By the artist time, for no other ever lived, who could portray
Those lovely scenes in colors half so fair.
The loveliest scene of all our evenings round the blazing hearth,
Where the family circle to forget all anxious care would meet;
Thinking only of sweet rest, comfort, joy and mirth
That soothed our weary spirits and made our happiness complete.
No thought that the gilded chain that bound our hearts as one,
Was so weak. Did not dream that so soon twould lie,
All broken, a precious golden link forever gone,
Borne by angels far up into the glorious regions of the sky.
Oh that from memory I could tear the page so often bathed in tears,
So black with the horrors of that night by a dying sister's bed
Close by cue unconscious sufferer I watched, trembling with awful tears,
Not daring to leave her side lest her precious spirit might have fled.
Once, weary of seeing her suffer through the long watches of the night,
I crept into the yard, there alone to lift the flood gates of my soul.
Kneeling upon the grass, with stars streaming upon me their pitying light.
It seemed as if my heart would break, such grief must remain untold.
Then looking up I saw a setting star that all the brighter seemed to shine,
But Oh! a brighter star must soon set than ever shone o'erhead.
Father of mercies, spare my darling sister's life, let death take mine.
But 'twere not so, she alone must go. Gladly would I have gone instead.
At the earliest approach of dawn in the twilight gray,
Her suffering ceased, her lips parted, a sweet smile o'spread her face.
Thank God, I thought consciousness returned at last, and dispair to hope gave way.
But oh, the bitter anguish, when I saw her smiling corpse reposing in death's cold embrace.
The sweetest, saddest picture, that memory holds, is that fair face as she like a sleeping beauty lay
She had smiled as she caught a glimpse of the golden shore,
And her spirit took its flight to the blessed realms of endless day,
Where with harp and crown she stands and sings, her sufferings now are o'er.
Often when sitting alone, as the quiet shades of evening fall,
Memory brings sweet visions of her who blest my childhood hours.
She the youngest, I the next, sister, playmate, oh, how well I remember all,
Happy in our childish joys, our lives were pure as the fragrant flowers.
Light as the winged zephyrs, we roved the sunny field and shady wood,
Together we listened to the song of birds and the music of the murmuring streamlets flow,
Gentle fragrant breezes, fanned our heated cheeks as 'neath summer skies we stood
Thus happy, we loved each other and little thought how soon we must part, thank God, we did not know.
And now when the night winds whispering soft and low, waft me to the land of dreams,
I meet her there with the same sweet smile and wavy hair and eyes of heaven's own blue,
Hand in hand again we walk mid fragrant flowers by rippling streams.
In the sweet unconsciousness of sleep all our joys come back anew.
Oh sister, loving and faithful ,oh playmate, kind and true!
Blessed with thy sunny presence 'twould seem as if heaven were here.
But I could not wish thee back, for thou art happy now and secure
From the storms of life, from sorrow and suffering and care.
Sweet Mary, I see thee even now, robed in white, smiling and beckoning to me,
Oh, may thy memory shield me from sin, may my life be pure as was thine.
And then when the storms of life are o'er and death shall set my spirit free
I will not fear to go, for I will meet thee, and eternal bliss will be mine.
Yes, the golden chain is broken, but we hope 'tis not for aye;
For though on earth we can never mend the chain, yet this hope is given,
That if God will it so, we can go to her, then let us trust and pray,
That the parted links may be gathered home to form a golden chain in heaven.
Geo. O. Gunter
Griffin, Ga.
June 6th, 1893
(The above is a tribute to the memory of Mrs. Mary K. Brown, who deceased in the town of McDonough, Ga. August 1891, Ed. T.M .)
[transcribed digitally by great grandnephew Jim W. Latimer, 2013, from original Towaliga Messenger, Vol. VI, No. 6, June 1893, pages 17-20, original held by the Jack Tarver Library Special Collections, Mercer University, Macon, Ga.]
[written by George Oxford Gunter age 20 for sister Mary Kelly Gunter Brown after her death age 17 in childbirth]
Alas! the golden chain is broken,
The chain that bound our hearts in love,
Its links were smiles and deeds and kind words spoken,
Its strength, affection pure as the golden streets above.
Within its happy circle charmed,
Together, the joys and sorrows of our lives we shared
Within the portals of our home with love and virtue armed,
No bitter strife, no demon of disgrace we feared.
Oh! that for one moment the curtain might be lifted
That the happiness of that home, the world might see and feel;
For no human pen, no mortal tongue, however gifted
Can describe those joys so pure and real.
Oh! that to me the power were given to display,
The gilded pictures on memories walls engraven there;
By the artist time, for no other ever lived, who could portray
Those lovely scenes in colors half so fair.
The loveliest scene of all our evenings round the blazing hearth,
Where the family circle to forget all anxious care would meet;
Thinking only of sweet rest, comfort, joy and mirth
That soothed our weary spirits and made our happiness complete.
No thought that the gilded chain that bound our hearts as one,
Was so weak. Did not dream that so soon twould lie,
All broken, a precious golden link forever gone,
Borne by angels far up into the glorious regions of the sky.
Oh that from memory I could tear the page so often bathed in tears,
So black with the horrors of that night by a dying sister's bed
Close by cue unconscious sufferer I watched, trembling with awful tears,
Not daring to leave her side lest her precious spirit might have fled.
Once, weary of seeing her suffer through the long watches of the night,
I crept into the yard, there alone to lift the flood gates of my soul.
Kneeling upon the grass, with stars streaming upon me their pitying light.
It seemed as if my heart would break, such grief must remain untold.
Then looking up I saw a setting star that all the brighter seemed to shine,
But Oh! a brighter star must soon set than ever shone o'erhead.
Father of mercies, spare my darling sister's life, let death take mine.
But 'twere not so, she alone must go. Gladly would I have gone instead.
At the earliest approach of dawn in the twilight gray,
Her suffering ceased, her lips parted, a sweet smile o'spread her face.
Thank God, I thought consciousness returned at last, and dispair to hope gave way.
But oh, the bitter anguish, when I saw her smiling corpse reposing in death's cold embrace.
The sweetest, saddest picture, that memory holds, is that fair face as she like a sleeping beauty lay
She had smiled as she caught a glimpse of the golden shore,
And her spirit took its flight to the blessed realms of endless day,
Where with harp and crown she stands and sings, her sufferings now are o'er.
Often when sitting alone, as the quiet shades of evening fall,
Memory brings sweet visions of her who blest my childhood hours.
She the youngest, I the next, sister, playmate, oh, how well I remember all,
Happy in our childish joys, our lives were pure as the fragrant flowers.
Light as the winged zephyrs, we roved the sunny field and shady wood,
Together we listened to the song of birds and the music of the murmuring streamlets flow,
Gentle fragrant breezes, fanned our heated cheeks as 'neath summer skies we stood
Thus happy, we loved each other and little thought how soon we must part, thank God, we did not know.
And now when the night winds whispering soft and low, waft me to the land of dreams,
I meet her there with the same sweet smile and wavy hair and eyes of heaven's own blue,
Hand in hand again we walk mid fragrant flowers by rippling streams.
In the sweet unconsciousness of sleep all our joys come back anew.
Oh sister, loving and faithful ,oh playmate, kind and true!
Blessed with thy sunny presence 'twould seem as if heaven were here.
But I could not wish thee back, for thou art happy now and secure
From the storms of life, from sorrow and suffering and care.
Sweet Mary, I see thee even now, robed in white, smiling and beckoning to me,
Oh, may thy memory shield me from sin, may my life be pure as was thine.
And then when the storms of life are o'er and death shall set my spirit free
I will not fear to go, for I will meet thee, and eternal bliss will be mine.
Yes, the golden chain is broken, but we hope 'tis not for aye;
For though on earth we can never mend the chain, yet this hope is given,
That if God will it so, we can go to her, then let us trust and pray,
That the parted links may be gathered home to form a golden chain in heaven.
Geo. O. Gunter
Griffin, Ga.
June 6th, 1893
(The above is a tribute to the memory of Mrs. Mary K. Brown, who deceased in the town of McDonough, Ga. August 1891, Ed. T.M .)
[transcribed digitally by great grandnephew Jim W. Latimer, 2013, from original Towaliga Messenger, Vol. VI, No. 6, June 1893, pages 17-20, original held by the Jack Tarver Library Special Collections, Mercer University, Macon, Ga.]
THE BROKEN CHAIN
[written by George Oxford Gunter age 20 for sister Mary Kelly Gunter Brown after her death age 17 in childbirth]
Alas! the golden chain is broken,
The chain that bound our hearts in love,
Its links were smiles and deeds and kind words spoken,
Its strength, affection pure as the golden streets above.
Within its happy circle charmed,
Together, the joys and sorrows of our lives we shared
Within the portals of our home with love and virtue armed,
No bitter strife, no demon of disgrace we feared.
Oh! that for one moment the curtain might be lifted
That the happiness of that home, the world might see and feel;
For no human pen, no mortal tongue, however gifted
Can describe those joys so pure and real.
Oh! that to me the power were given to display,
The gilded pictures on memories walls engraven there;
By the artist time, for no other ever lived, who could portray
Those lovely scenes in colors half so fair.
The loveliest scene of all our evenings round the blazing hearth,
Where the family circle to forget all anxious care would meet;
Thinking only of sweet rest, comfort, joy and mirth
That soothed our weary spirits and made our happiness complete.
No thought that the gilded chain that bound our hearts as one,
Was so weak. Did not dream that so soon twould lie,
All broken, a precious golden link forever gone,
Borne by angels far up into the glorious regions of the sky.
Oh that from memory I could tear the page so often bathed in tears,
So black with the horrors of that night by a dying sister's bed
Close by cue unconscious sufferer I watched, trembling with awful tears,
Not daring to leave her side lest her precious spirit might have fled.
Once, weary of seeing her suffer through the long watches of the night,
I crept into the yard, there alone to lift the flood gates of my soul.
Kneeling upon the grass, with stars streaming upon me their pitying light.
It seemed as if my heart would break, such grief must remain untold.
Then looking up I saw a setting star that all the brighter seemed to shine,
But Oh! a brighter star must soon set than ever shone o'erhead.
Father of mercies, spare my darling sister's life, let death take mine.
But 'twere not so, she alone must go. Gladly would I have gone instead.
At the earliest approach of dawn in the twilight gray,
Her suffering ceased, her lips parted, a sweet smile o'spread her face.
Thank God, I thought consciousness returned at last, and dispair to hope gave way.
But oh, the bitter anguish, when I saw her smiling corpse reposing in death's cold embrace.
The sweetest, saddest picture, that memory holds, is that fair face as she like a sleeping beauty lay
She had smiled as she caught a glimpse of the golden shore,
And her spirit took its flight to the blessed realms of endless day,
Where with harp and crown she stands and sings, her sufferings now are o'er.
Often when sitting alone, as the quiet shades of evening fall,
Memory brings sweet visions of her who blest my childhood hours.
She the youngest, I the next, sister, playmate, oh, how well I remember all,
Happy in our childish joys, our lives were pure as the fragrant flowers.
Light as the winged zephyrs, we roved the sunny field and shady wood,
Together we listened to the song of birds and the music of the murmuring streamlets flow,
Gentle fragrant breezes, fanned our heated cheeks as 'neath summer skies we stood
Thus happy, we loved each other and little thought how soon we must part, thank God, we did not know.
And now when the night winds whispering soft and low, waft me to the land of dreams,
I meet her there with the same sweet smile and wavy hair and eyes of heaven's own blue,
Hand in hand again we walk mid fragrant flowers by rippling streams.
In the sweet unconsciousness of sleep all our joys come back anew.
Oh sister, loving and faithful ,oh playmate, kind and true!
Blessed with thy sunny presence 'twould seem as if heaven were here.
But I could not wish thee back, for thou art happy now and secure
From the storms of life, from sorrow and suffering and care.
Sweet Mary, I see thee even now, robed in white, smiling and beckoning to me,
Oh, may thy memory shield me from sin, may my life be pure as was thine.
And then when the storms of life are o'er and death shall set my spirit free
I will not fear to go, for I will meet thee, and eternal bliss will be mine.
Yes, the golden chain is broken, but we hope 'tis not for aye;
For though on earth we can never mend the chain, yet this hope is given,
That if God will it so, we can go to her, then let us trust and pray,
That the parted links may be gathered home to form a golden chain in heaven.
Geo. O. Gunter
Griffin, Ga.
June 6th, 1893
(The above is a tribute to the memory of Mrs. Mary K. Brown, who deceased in the town of McDonough, Ga. August 1891, Ed. T.M .)
[transcribed digitally by great grandnephew Jim W. Latimer, 2013, from original Towaliga Messenger, Vol. VI, No. 6, June 1893, pages 17-20, original held by the Jack Tarver Library Special Collections, Mercer University, Macon, Ga.]
[written by George Oxford Gunter age 20 for sister Mary Kelly Gunter Brown after her death age 17 in childbirth]
Alas! the golden chain is broken,
The chain that bound our hearts in love,
Its links were smiles and deeds and kind words spoken,
Its strength, affection pure as the golden streets above.
Within its happy circle charmed,
Together, the joys and sorrows of our lives we shared
Within the portals of our home with love and virtue armed,
No bitter strife, no demon of disgrace we feared.
Oh! that for one moment the curtain might be lifted
That the happiness of that home, the world might see and feel;
For no human pen, no mortal tongue, however gifted
Can describe those joys so pure and real.
Oh! that to me the power were given to display,
The gilded pictures on memories walls engraven there;
By the artist time, for no other ever lived, who could portray
Those lovely scenes in colors half so fair.
The loveliest scene of all our evenings round the blazing hearth,
Where the family circle to forget all anxious care would meet;
Thinking only of sweet rest, comfort, joy and mirth
That soothed our weary spirits and made our happiness complete.
No thought that the gilded chain that bound our hearts as one,
Was so weak. Did not dream that so soon twould lie,
All broken, a precious golden link forever gone,
Borne by angels far up into the glorious regions of the sky.
Oh that from memory I could tear the page so often bathed in tears,
So black with the horrors of that night by a dying sister's bed
Close by cue unconscious sufferer I watched, trembling with awful tears,
Not daring to leave her side lest her precious spirit might have fled.
Once, weary of seeing her suffer through the long watches of the night,
I crept into the yard, there alone to lift the flood gates of my soul.
Kneeling upon the grass, with stars streaming upon me their pitying light.
It seemed as if my heart would break, such grief must remain untold.
Then looking up I saw a setting star that all the brighter seemed to shine,
But Oh! a brighter star must soon set than ever shone o'erhead.
Father of mercies, spare my darling sister's life, let death take mine.
But 'twere not so, she alone must go. Gladly would I have gone instead.
At the earliest approach of dawn in the twilight gray,
Her suffering ceased, her lips parted, a sweet smile o'spread her face.
Thank God, I thought consciousness returned at last, and dispair to hope gave way.
But oh, the bitter anguish, when I saw her smiling corpse reposing in death's cold embrace.
The sweetest, saddest picture, that memory holds, is that fair face as she like a sleeping beauty lay
She had smiled as she caught a glimpse of the golden shore,
And her spirit took its flight to the blessed realms of endless day,
Where with harp and crown she stands and sings, her sufferings now are o'er.
Often when sitting alone, as the quiet shades of evening fall,
Memory brings sweet visions of her who blest my childhood hours.
She the youngest, I the next, sister, playmate, oh, how well I remember all,
Happy in our childish joys, our lives were pure as the fragrant flowers.
Light as the winged zephyrs, we roved the sunny field and shady wood,
Together we listened to the song of birds and the music of the murmuring streamlets flow,
Gentle fragrant breezes, fanned our heated cheeks as 'neath summer skies we stood
Thus happy, we loved each other and little thought how soon we must part, thank God, we did not know.
And now when the night winds whispering soft and low, waft me to the land of dreams,
I meet her there with the same sweet smile and wavy hair and eyes of heaven's own blue,
Hand in hand again we walk mid fragrant flowers by rippling streams.
In the sweet unconsciousness of sleep all our joys come back anew.
Oh sister, loving and faithful ,oh playmate, kind and true!
Blessed with thy sunny presence 'twould seem as if heaven were here.
But I could not wish thee back, for thou art happy now and secure
From the storms of life, from sorrow and suffering and care.
Sweet Mary, I see thee even now, robed in white, smiling and beckoning to me,
Oh, may thy memory shield me from sin, may my life be pure as was thine.
And then when the storms of life are o'er and death shall set my spirit free
I will not fear to go, for I will meet thee, and eternal bliss will be mine.
Yes, the golden chain is broken, but we hope 'tis not for aye;
For though on earth we can never mend the chain, yet this hope is given,
That if God will it so, we can go to her, then let us trust and pray,
That the parted links may be gathered home to form a golden chain in heaven.
Geo. O. Gunter
Griffin, Ga.
June 6th, 1893
(The above is a tribute to the memory of Mrs. Mary K. Brown, who deceased in the town of McDonough, Ga. August 1891, Ed. T.M .)
[transcribed digitally by great grandnephew Jim W. Latimer, 2013, from original Towaliga Messenger, Vol. VI, No. 6, June 1893, pages 17-20, original held by the Jack Tarver Library Special Collections, Mercer University, Macon, Ga.]
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