Brown Chapel : a story in verse

CANTO IV. The Struggle .• '* 24

CANTO y.

The Hawkins Family ; " 44

CANTO YI.

The Church Conference " 58

CANTO VII.

The Thunder Storm " 66

CANTO VIII.

The Morning After " 89

CANTO IX.

The Rumor " 103

CANTO X.

Quarterly Meeting ,..,....,,, " 118

CANTO XL The Run-away

CANTO XII.

The Twilight Search

CANTO XIII.

The Vision "

CANTO XIV.

The Visitors

CANTO XV.

The Camp Meeting

CANTO XVI.

October Night

CANTO XVII.

A Strange Story -

CANTO XVIII.

Mame's Story •

CANTO XIX.

The Winter Night Visitor

CANTO XX.

Winter Morning Confession

CANTO XXI.

Christmas Eve Surprise Party

Preface

In coming into the literary world with the following poem, 1 cannot help being conscious of the seriousness of the venture.

I am aware that there are many faulty lines, and many verses that might best be left out. Yet, feeling that there may be some merit in the poem, as a whole, and unable, myself, to judge what is the best and what is the worst of that, the whole of which I love, I come with it into the world of letters, awaiting, as many have before me, my fate, at the hands of the never-mistaken critic.

If the people of Brown Chapel, with their pastor, will help to steal away the duller hours of the reader, I shall deem the task I have attempted well done.

Brown Chapel, its people and scenes are all, with a few exceptions on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, w^here I served as pa'stor in the ministry of the A. M. E. connection for five years. And these five years, despite their being the beginning of my active work, and filled with peculiar hardships, too wellknown to preachers on the Eastern Shore, I shall alw^ays treasure in memory with the fondest joy.

For the people of the Eastern Shore I have only words of praise. There, among them of both races I found a hearty cooperation in my efforts to extend the Redeemer's Kingdom, and should it please God to have my lot once more cast among them, I should be only too, glad to serve them.

Hoping that the people among whom I first labored may find time to peruse these pages, and that such may be of pleasure to them, I bid my friends farewell, till I shall again tune my harp to better and nobler songs.

Baltimore, Aug. 27, 1903.

DEDICATORY.

To mother who first taught these lips To Hsp the measured notes of rhyme,

And bade my fancy take its flight To fairy tales of olden time, The offering of her only boy,

This song I sing. May she enjoy

BROWN CHAPEL.

I. This Sabbath morn the sun came up

And looked from out a cloudless sky; The dew besprinkled butter cup,

The gentle bluets growing nigh, Smiled to behold the day and hear

The lark's glad song which filled the air ; And, some how, there was quiet cheer

On hill and meadow everywhere; Some unseen spirit seemed to say "Behold, it is the Holy Day."

n.

The little chapel in the lane.

Not far from off the public road. Had all her blinds thrown back again,

And opened windows plainly showed The good old sexton's busy form.

The first to see that all was right, — That nothing from last Friday's storm

Had damaged been. The morning light Streamed thro' the windows; each recess Beamed back a hallowed blessedness.

8 Mown chapel.

III. The simple color of the wall

Did throw a halo o'er the place; Its gentle stillness might appall

The worldly, he with heart of grace, As had the sexton, moved about,

In spirit of calm peace and joy, With such a faith which knows no doubt.

That never a danger can destroy; Ay, just to see this sacred spot; Enough : the world was all forgot.

IV. Here all alone the chapel stood

With not a cottage within sight ; Northwestward sheltered by a wood,

Southeastward open to the light. The blessed sun each morning brought

And poured upon it all alone : It seemed as if an angel sought

Its sacred doors when night was gone. His bright glow throwing all around, Soft whispered, "This is holy ground."

V. No wonder then the simple folk

Did Sabbath after Sabbath seek Its portals. Who would say to talk

O'er what transpired thro' the week? Perhaps, perhaps, but deeper still;

No light-fraught gossip was their quest : They came that they their souls might fill

With fat things of eternal rest; They came to sing, they came to pray — But something else brought them to-day.

The new pastor.

VI. But something else brought them to-day

They came the Word of God to hear — Not that they would forget to pray,

(The meanest there believed in prayer,) And yet another motive brought

These goodly people to this spot. If 'twere a lower end they sought —

If such their wrong condemn them not; They came, to be more plain in speech, To hear their new sent pastor preach.

VII. And so both old and young w^ere glad

To see the sky so bright to-day, And maidens were as gayly clad

As would be well the ''first of May." The lads put on their Sunday clothes,

And vied with each to look their best; And spinsters tied on extra bows

To be not wanting with the rest ; While all the elder men agreed To show themselves of gentle breed.

VIII. So when the young divine who had

The night before with Bro. Nooks Sojourned, came down the road, neat, clad

Clerically, his very looks Impressed them who about the door

In groups were standing all the while; And if some liked him not before.

No sooner than they caught his smile The most in doubt liked the divine, And every maid pronounced him "fine."

t6 BROWN CHAi^EL.

IX. And so with Deacon Nooks, he went

Straight to the pulpit. There he knelt, And must have prayed : the moments spent,

Themselves betrayed in what was felt. The simple choir, voices sweet,

Was there. The lovely organist An anthem played the while. Each ?eat

Within the church was filled. If missed Had many been the days before. Here they were seen to-day for sure.

X. The hymn was sung, the prayer was prayed

The choir never had before, (This was what Bro. Simpson said),

Sung half so well ; they seemed to soar. That is their voices, on the wings

Of heavenly mission on that day, As if their minds to worldly things

Had never a moment chanced to stray; Yet sly Rosetta missed a line, In looking at the young divine.

XI. The prayer was prayed; it rose aloft

In adoration to the Throne. At times the voice was low and soft,

And next it had a thundering tone. Which caused old Bro. Simon Snout

To raise his head that he might see If 'twere the same voice, then to shout,

And let his feelings full and free Have all the range they wanted ; then. At every word he cried "Amen !"

tliE NEW PAStOR. It

XIL.

And now the Scripture simply read ;

The Decalogue responded to; The choir well its strength displayed

In bringing in a hymn or two. The way is cleared, he rose to speak :

''To spend and to be spent for you." Such was the theme. He came to seek

Not his own good, but 'twas to do All that was in his power to bring Them to their God, their rightful King.

XIII. He came to tell them nothing new

The old, old story would be told; The Holy City brought to view,

Of jasper walls and streets of gold; The same old chart to reach the place;

The same old Truths on which to stand; The promise of sufficient grace

To lead one safely through this land ; And from the spirit of each text. To lead him safely to the next.

XIV. He came to make no difference

The meanest of the flock he sought; The Scripture was his evidence

That grace was for the vilest wrought; He came to seek, he came to save.

He came to lift men's longings to What Christ to every sinner gave, —

Ay, not himself but Christ to view — If 'twere to stand there in Christ's stead, It were to be Christ-like indeed.

XV. No wonder, then, the people said

When that short half an hour was o'er, Commenting on the prayer prayed,

The sermon preached, never before Had they enjoyed a better treat;

No wonder Sis. Lizzie Green Who ne'er before had gone to meet,

To-day was at the altar seen; And such a shaking hands, 'twas free To think she'd have him home to tea.

XVI

And Bro. Peter Scroggins said,

(He was the local preacher there,) He thought that Deacon Nooks had prayed, But Nooks wa'n't in it in that prayer.* And, well, the choir sat, and sat,

And hung upon his eloquence. Rosetta whispered, ''Now, hear that, I bet you that he has some sense." And spell-bound sat the organist, Nor single word was by her missed.

XVH.

For her the morning service had

Far more than for the others there; She saw in that tall figure clad

Clerically, another. Clear It was his form, his very face ;

His deep, rich voice of other days, His clear delivery of grace,

Which years ago had won him praise; And yet that once all reckless youth. To-day expounder of God's Truth !

THE NEW PASTOR. 13

XVIII. What wondrous miracle was this?

''We are his workmanship," the thought Came home that morn to her. The bhss

Which she now feh had not been wrought By what he said, but what he was.

Did not she feel at first surprise When he had entered? — when to pass

He turned and placed on her those eyes? One look suffice, it was to say He was her once fond lover, Ray.

XIX

And had he recognized her ? No :

At least it didn't seem he had. The gaze spoke not of long ago

On his part. Some how she was sad But played that morn as ne'er before.

And twice she thought she felt his gaze ; And as she played her hands ran o'er

The keys as in the other days. When he had at the organ stood. And sung with her, as well he could.

XX. "How one's paths cross," she sat and thought

While he with fiery eloquence That little congregation .wrought

To highest pitch of zeal. Perchance Her mind was too much occupied

With other thoughts, she might lose sight Of the main points which he now tried -

To simplify in figures bright. She felt reproved when he was through , To think she had not "felt" him too,

XXL

"And you enjoyed the sermon?" said

Her husband to her, going home *1 did ? O yes," as she betrayed

Her deep abstraction. "He will come,*' Her husband still continued to

Remark, "on Thursday night to tea — I had not time to speak with you,

So many rushed ahead of me, I then and there made with him date For fear that I should be too late."

xxn.

"Of course," she bit her lips and said.

And tried to act as unconcerned : And yet she felt that she betrayed

The fire that within her burned. But Charles, an unsuspecting man,

Walked on with here and there a word On general topics, or some plan,

The half of which she never heard, Till to their cottage came at last, Where they soon broke their mid-day fast.

CROSSING OF PATHS. 1 5

Canto II. CROSSING OF PATHS

I.

The Rev. Raymond Aldrich Stone Was very tall and spare in size ;

A clean kept face of lightish brown, A massive brow and large black eyes,

A sharp curved nose, a well shaped mouth, And chin that argued firmness, too;

Large, generous ears, the marks of truth; Straight, wavy hair of blackest hue;

A face of strong intelligence,

A man of clean cut common sense.

XL

He was yet young, the thread of Time

Around him measured thirty-three; He thus had not yet reached his prime,

And still had many years to see, And yet he older looked : perchance,

His love for learning was the cause; Yes, there was every evidence;

Here he dared much on nature's laws, 'Twas common that they termed him such "A man that studied far too much."

i6

BROWN CHAPEL.

III.

He was not married. Somehow, he,

Up to this time, had led a Hfe Of bachelorhood, yet seemed to be

Just as content without a wife. Some eight years as a pastor, now.

With some experience, he went Among his flock, nor would allow

A minute o'er his time be spent In any visit, so exact Was he in each pastoral act.

IV.

His elder brethren watched his course,

And wondered at his sturdy gait, Seemed not to realize the force

That gave to him such powerful weight. He all unconscious of his power.

Pursued his path day after day; Stood at his post the darkest hour,

Nor in it all forgot to pray; And yet, the Rev. Stone was human: Once in his life he loved a woman !

V.

Once in his life, his early life,

He loved a woman only as A boy could love, make her his wiie

His only hope, but Fate, alas, (Or better still, wise Providence,)

Saw fit to have it different; A bitter blow, and yet the sense

0(f it he saw, knew what it meant, His worldly longings sacrificed Upon the altar of his Christ,

CROSSING OF PATHS. 17

VI.

And that was o'er ten years ago ;

Since then all life had different been ; And, women, he had come to know

In many ways. Ah, he had seen Through different glasses, learnt to smile

When not a single joy he felt; And with his brain hard learnt to toil, —

Deep in life's mysteries had dealt; Had learnt ere life had half begun The loss was less than what was won.

VII.

The loss was less than what was won;

Alone within the world, he strove Not in the world to live alone.

But love the world in that one love — That love, which, crushed, had never died.

Ay, though the heart had wounded been. It still lived on, now sanctified,

It burned, now flaming pure and clean, And having all its fullness known. He lived that he might serve alone.

VIII.

Then with a perfect solid sense

Of all that God would have him do, Blessed with the conscious evidence

Of his conversion, to pursue The chosen path of duty, he

Found not too hard, despite the rough; He went his way diligently ,

In the firm steps of faith : enough, Though he must travel on alone. To know t^he Master led hjm on. ' , l8 BROWN CHAPEL.

IX.

This was the secret of it all ;

A simple boy whose only trust Was God. Then if he did not fall,

Despite that others said he ''must," Is not there reason? 'Twas that grace.

Of which St. Paul, so hampered, spoke: This kept our hero ''in his place,"

And by it every band he broke. Wrought to entrap him. All may be Sustained by it as well as he.

X.

And that was o'er ten years ago,

A college man, a reckless lad. He met her, and he loved her so.

And she was lovely, but she- had A horror for his reckless ways;

And if she loved him, would not own. Refused to see him. Rumor says.

Went home; got married; and poor Stone, Though staggering beneath the stroke. From it to better things awoke.

XI.

An orphan, he had made his way

By his own hands into the world ; Learnt by sheer force with fate to play.

Learnt to escape the darts she hurled. He joined the church of his own choice.

And forthwith to her conference; 'Twas soon the elders heard his voice

And recognized his eloquence. He at the Seminary spent Two years, degreed, thus out he went,

CROSSING OF PATHS. 1 9

XII.

And yet, the Rev. Raymond Stone

Saw nothing m himself; a sense Of lowHness there was alone,

Which seemed to fill him with intense Desire to improve, to grow

In grace and knowledge ; ever bent To learn those things he did not know,

Each moment in the day was spent In diligence, and when the sun Went down, it left that day's work done.

XIII.

At night, the church was packed, the fame

Of the new pastor went abroad ; And those who by misfortune came

Too late, stood patient in the road. 'Tor me to live is Christ." His theme

Was lofty, and his audience Sat wrought up like a mighty stream

That rages from the swells intense Of recent storms augmenting sway, Might any moment burst away !

XIV.

This was the pinnacle, he said.

Of Christian excellence, the place Of all, who by the Spirit led,

Would live beneath the smile of Grace. He lived in vain who would not crave

To reach that summit. Selfishness Of such a man had made a slave.

That in this world would aim at less. ''Life's not mere meat and drink alone," The speaker said in solemn tone,

XV.

Again the service closed, the day

Had thus been spent; another week Before the people came that way

Again to hear their pastor speak. Around the altar now to-night

They crowd and firmly press his hand. They speak of spiritual delight

In ways he could but understand. He spoke just as the Spirit led, Explaining, that was what he said.

XVI.

The choir, too, deserved some praise,

It had assisted him so much Within the human way. He stays

To see the singers. It was such As he had always done before.

He said, he thought they should be "one." • The leader stood down at the door.

Yes, they had all splendidly done. And then her hand he might have missed. But there she stood, the organist.

XVII.

"Ah, thank you for your work," and he

Took her long slender hand, her eyes Met his. 'Tt did so much for me;

I do love music." She replies Some little nothing ; but the sound

Of that clear voice caused him to look Again at her. Somehow he found

Himself recalling — then he took Her hand again with "You-you-you- Remind me niuch of one I knew !"

CROSSING OF PATHS. 21

XVIII.

"Ah, Rev., don't forget our tea

On Thursday night." Her husband came That moment. Thus awakened he

Controlled himself. ''Regard your claim Brother-r-r — " ''Melville," he helped out with a smile.

"Yes, yes, that's so ; you see I can't Just now hold names, but wait awhile

And I shall know you all. I want To visit all your section then ; And SO I'll see you soon again."

XIX.

May Melville heard, smiled, bowed and went

In company with her husband home. . And Stone, alone with Nooks, intent

Upon this voice, he thought that some Where he had heard it — "Bro. Nooks,

Who- was the organist before She married?" "Mary-Mary Brooks,"

The old man said, "Tho' I'm not sure, But Betsy knows ; you see she's not Just all together of our lot."

XX.

No, that did not suggest at all

Who she might be. "What do you mean — Is this her home?" Just then a call

From one ahead, "Is that you, Jean ?" 'Twas Sis. Nooks who'd gone ahead

With other sisters, waiting stood Now all alone, since not afraid

Had parted at the crossing road. "Yes, hit's me, Betsy." Then he said, "What was that gal's name Melville wed?"

i± BROWN CHAPEL.

XXI. " 'Twas Mary, Mary Brookins ; yes

That was her name; she's from the North, And too a hkely gal. I guess

She's certainly a lot of worth Now to our church. She made the choir.

And bought the organ, taught the school, And raised it up just two grades higher.

Then spoiled it all by turning fool To marry Melville, may be though For our own good 'twas better so."

XXII

That night, the Rev. Raymond Stone

Sat in the room assigned to him. Half dressed. The house to sleep had js:one.

His lamp was burning rather dim. And in his hand a photograph

Which he had always carried near His beating heart. A low soft laugfh.

And gazing on it, thus : "My dear, 'Thy sins,' 'tis said, 'shall find thee out,' And here 'tis proved beyond a doubt.

XXIII. 'T might have known those eyes at once

And yet, how she has changed since then. Ah, well, 'twas then I played the dunce.

Yes, sowed wild oats like other men ; And now when many years have rolled

Around, Mame Brookins, you and I Must meet — no, neither as of old —

Yet gladly, I must not deny. And now yotir husband asking me On Thursday evening to tea.

Crossing of paths. 2J

XXIV. *'God give me strength to meet you here

Yes, may He richly send that grace Of which I preach, for it is clear,

I well may need it in this place. These simple people all too much

Have fallen in love with me, so short A time. I do not like it, such

Forbodes me ill. Let me resort To God lest I be found undone." So musing, prayed the Rev. Stone.

XXV. For, on his knees that night, he put

Those thoughts in 'Avords. Experience Had taught him when he placed his foot

Upon some grounds. He felt the sense Of greatest need just now. He poured

His soul in supplication out. He pleaded on the promised Word,

He begged deliverance from all doubt : He gave himself to God to keep. Then like a child, he fell asleep.

Canto III. THE PARISH

I.

Brown Chapel had no parsonage,

Though well it could afford to have. Its people in a healthy stage

Of thriftness could easily save From off their crops enough to build

A small neat cottage near the church. However, they must be instilled

With the great need. And then to search For men to do it, see it done, — And this not long, concluded Stone.

'His eight .years' preaching taught him that

A pastor was the best off. when Left to himself, no matter what

The good intents of other men Might be, 'twere few could understand

A preacher's place. Therefore, to be Housed in with others when there's land

Just waiting to be built on, he Had no intentions, even though, Among them it might start a row-

THE PARISH. ^5

III.

And so^ he brought this up at board,

These five men heard, two kicked, of course, But all would get the people's word,

And this would let them know their force. "A parsonage," said Bro. Brown,

He always thought the 'Very thing." He didn't care, but he was "down"

O'n keeping the pastor in a "ring." He thought the man was handicapped — 'Twas true, he cared not whom he "slapped."

IV.

And Bro. Azariah Jones

Considered it was, after all, The only thing. He'd furnish stones,

And even give a team to haul, If all the people would agree.

He was full certain that he could Also obtain for them a tree

From "outen" Mr. Atkins' wood. He, too, declared the pastor ought Be where 'twas quiet for one's thought.

V.

And Bro. Johnson cleared his throat.

Then said "Yer know I tol' yer so. Not one ob ye would gimme note

When I sed dis a yeah ago. An' now hit's come ter pass, yer see,

And I se glad hit has, I say, Right heah, afore yer, es fer me,

I'll wuk fum fus' till de las' day Ter buir a fittin' house, so dah ! I'll tak wid any man mah shah."

26 BROWisr CHAPEL.

vi.

"An' now I reckon I mus' speak,"

Said Bro. Smith, as he arose. *'0b co'se, my voice is one an' weak,

But what we aih, now ye all knows. While I don' jes' say not ter staht,

I reckon hit would betteh be, Foh any ob us gits so puht,

Ter fin' out whetheh de folks '11 'gree : 'Tis cheap ter talk, and' we knows dat, But doin' of de t'ings is w'at."

VII.

And Bro. Zechariah Sands

Agreed with Bro. Smith, he thought, Before they got too deep their hands Into the thing, of course, they ought Consult the people's wishes. He,

If 'twas in order now, would move That it be put to popular vote;

And if the people would approve, Why, he had no objections to it, And having spoken he sat down, Exchanging looks with Bro. Brown.

VIII.

The move was put and carried. Then,

The pastor spoke; his words were clear. Assured he had to deal with men.

Whose hearts and minds were just and fair, He had no doubt their influence

Would all be used toward the plan. He knew them men of solid sense.

And thus was sure that to a man, Would urge the people of the need ; By this no doubt it would succeed.

tHfi tARlSH. ^

IX.

The people of Brown Chapel were,

Upon the whole, a goodly set ; And pastored by a minister

Of sense, it was not hard to get Them to do any reasonable thing,

According if they could afford. They practiced what they tried to sing —

"Help us to help each other, Lord," Tho' in prayer meetings they might do Things funny to a stranger's view.

X.

One hundred strong, their membership,

This plus a goodly following. With those who now and then would slip.

Fall back, come forward, shout and sing, In big revivals cry aloud

For mercy, feel their sins forgiven, Go on rejoicing with the crowd.

Declare themselves brand new from heaven, Then when the heat of battle's o'er. Go back into the world once more.

XI.

They were African Methodist,

Ah ! came of sainted Allen's clan. Perhaps, they knew he did exist.

But very little of the man. Except a few, the gifted ones.

Who boasted of a book or two, Alluding to themselves as "sons

Of Allen," what they ought to do; And in class meeting oft referred To him, desiring to be heard.

XIL

Indeed, could one condemn the zeal?

For every one should love his line. To hear one boast doth make us feel

Proud of the man, though coarse or fine His manners be. A drunkard e'en

Will win respect when he declares His loyalty to king or queen.

Or president, although he swears ; And so with Allen's followers, Tho' they may seem his worshippers.

xin.

They had six classes. Two there were

Which met on Sunday, one at nine, The other three. Now it was clear

That these the young folks wished to join. When asked, as custom was, the class

Desired, one would likely say, Especiallv if 'twere a lass,

'The one that's led by Bro. Gray." And Bro. Gray would smiling come, "Yes, honey, I will lead you home."

XIV.

Gray's was the class that met at three,

And that which met at nine was led By Melville. Quite a leader he,

A man of good parts, somewhat read. True African Methodist, a heart

In which there could be found no guile ; Determined e'er to do his part.

And for his church and wife to toil. A few cleared acres, also some On which was wood, he called his home.

THE PARISH. 29

XV.

He was not old, some thirty-five,

Tall, dark, with looks intelligent, A disposition that could live

On anything and be content. A man who loved not passionate

And yet who firmly loved; whose trust Was perfect ; whom to aggravate,

Was hard; who deemed all men were just; Would treat them so until the light Revealed them different to his sight.

XVI.

This man, had Mary Brookins seen,

And learned his noble character; Learnt, too, he loved her ; had it been

Aught else, he had not married her. She could not love, but high respect,

She thought she well could substitute; And being strong, she could subject

Herself, and yielded to his suit. He, who could no conclusions draw, Saw this, and thought 'twas love he saw.

xvn.

His class was twenty, old and young.

Both male and female who enjoyed His exhortations. Well he sung.

And when by worldly matters cloyed. They sought their class ; and when he spoke,

As oft with fiery eloquence, It was not long the bands were broke.

And they were brought unto the sense Of joy and peace, which none could know, Except they to class meeting §^0.

XVIII.

Who contradicts? be his poor joy,

Let him, who will, emotion curse, And stop his ears if we annoy;

He will do well, who does no worse. My feeling may not well be his,

Yet the same Spirit makes us feel ; Should he be silent in his bliss.

He must some other way reveal. • What then is all this cant about. If he shed tears and I should shout?

XIX.

The personnel of Melville's class,

To man and woman, all were strong, And every character would *'pass,"

Examined upon moral wrong-; And yet mischievous, there were some,

Rosetta Hawkins them among, Who whether at her church or home

Did seldom e'er control her tongue. By such the neighborhood was e'er Kept in a most amusing stir.

XX.

If there was anything to know,

Why Rosie Hawkins knew it first ; Could she not say, "I told you so,"

'Twas certain that her pride would burst. And when the young folks wanted news.

They hung or sat on Rosie's bars. Some thought she could express her views

On all of earth and half the stars. 'Twas certainly when Rosie said, "The thing is," then the thing was made.

THE PARISH. 31

XXL

So Rosie said that Rev. Stone

Was quite a preacher, and unwed, No body else heard this, not one

Would contradict what Rosie said. More, she was certain that he had

No one in mind; and this was heard, As gossip, for it would be bad

To doubt one moment Rosie' s word. Then Rosie said he looked at her, Despite he was their minister.

XXII.

Now, had not Rosie been away

To some repute academy, They'd not believed the half she'd say;

But, now, being held in some degree. These girls who had not had her chance,