Bridgeton pioneer. (Bridgeton, N.J.) 1884-1919, 1891-06-25

longE replied that one of my own
church had said the people would be
glad to bury me.
'Ihere are good many things 1 am
happy for. When l came here picked
up some of you, and you put your lit
tie arms about my neck and kissed me
without blushing. You do not do that
any more. That is not one of the
things am glad for But, you have
taught the little ones that lie in your
laps now. to do the same thing, and
for that l am glad" s-..s f.+.
Mr.. Beadle then tenderly spoke of
his great love for the children, and
how often weary visiting the sick
room, he would walk a block or two
blocks, until he could find a little curly
headed cherub, and with it's face nest
ling close to his he could find peace
and comfort, and forget the trials and
troubles of this life. He then con-
tinued that his life had been full of
Gods blessings. There is so much to
be thankful for. And after ALL is the
work of the good Father. He and his
people have done only the work di-
rected by Him. He was glad that it
had been expressed that he had the
love Of his people and he earnestly
hoped that it would continue for
many, many years longer.
When the applause that followed
had spent itself, Miss Lizzie Laning
read poem, peculiarly appropriate to
the occasion, which had been written
by the Rev. John Stewart, formerly of
Greenwich, now of Pennsylvania. The
poem is as follows:
The years have sped like weayer's loom
Since those sweet days of light and bloom:
Those far-off days meath Jersey skies
Ger which brood with pensive sighs,
When life was fresh and the world seemed
young,
And thoughts were like psalms by mothers
sung,
The years have sped as on skylark's wing
Since those bright days of which sing,
When pleasant young man, of modest looks,
Began to preach in an orthodox town
Whose pulpits were famed for men of re-
nown:-
A town where Jones with mellihuous voice,
Had exhorted the saints of God to rejoice,
And in tones that Talsied the heart within,
Had threatened the wrath of God 'gainst SIM
A town where VanDyke in his youthful days
Had charmed all hearts as with poets lays,
And had borrowed seraphs wings to soar
10 cllmes where snow and sin are no more:-
A town where Gregory, keen and kind,
With zeal that kindled heart and mind,
Was preaching the cross that very day
In the big First Church just over the way.
Oh! the years have fled like dream of the
night,
Since those bright days of which 1 write.
When this modest young man of benignaut
face,
Began his ministry in that place.
see the old church, and the handful of people
Who needed the call from the heart-sick steeple
And gathered to hear the young shepherd g
words
With feelings as lonely as winter birds.
Their faces this question put to me:
(which is it: to be or not to be?"
Wen, that was just twenty-five years ago,
AND the sweet June skies are again aglow,
And peer from these hills with their radiant
gleam,
10 where Bridgeton sits by Cohanseys stream.
And see great throng-ah! new to me
VINO answer the question, ITO be?'-"Yes.
to be!''
All blessings upon that young pastors head.
Who awakened the church as if from the dead;
Who brought to her peace and love and cheer,
Till crowds came in to see and hear
To see this bright face that shone for all.
The hands that answered to every call,
And to hear the soft voice. whose loving tones
Put JOY in the heart of the dreariest means!
And now, when no longer the Pastor is young
Aud breaches the Word with novices tongue;
When years have brought insight and wisaom
and grace
That distil from his lips, and illumine his face:
join my far voice with the jubilant throng,
And bless my good friend in this bit of song.
"Speed swiftly. rude rhymes, with this hearty
prayer too;
Let 1t fall on his head like the soft-falling dew:
That these twenty five years may prophecy be
OF more afiluent joy and prosperity;
That bis heart may keep young and his eyes un-
dimmed
DIS ears eaten the strains Dy the angels hymned
And his voice carry messages tenderer still
To the weary heart aud relaxing will!
And at last, when the gray head lieth low,
And those quick eyes his people no more can
know,
When he answers no more to their love or
tears,
And the tree has fallen thro' weight OF years.
May the wall of mourners above him here
Be lost in the shouts of celestial cheer,
And the roof of the palace of Christ, the King,
With We'll done! well doue!' ring and ring !"
Three little girls-cute tots-pre-
sented Mr.. Beadle with a basket of
beautiful flowers, and he responded
most feelingly.
This ended the program of the even.
ing and refreshments followed. Every
body enjoyed ice cream and cake.
The entire assemblage then INDUCED
in social pleasure, and 1t was a late
hour when the last good byes were
said.
RRv. H H. BEADLE
Was born in Smyrna, Syria, about