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CAPT. CHARLES GRANT.
Dear father, thy days of toil are o'er,
As fall the wings of night;
And peacefully thy head lay down,
And thy spirit took its flight.
Yes, nobly thou has toiled Through hardships, pain and woe;
But now thy days of toil are o'er, And thy soul was ready to go.
Thou hast fought thy battles bravely, Through this wilderness below;
And many a loved one thou hast Seen pass to the other shore.
Old age thy form did never bend, But proud and erect you stood;
Like an aged oak in the forest grand, Till swept down by the flood.
An aged pensioned soldier,
Who battled for the right; And nobly stood, both firm and true.
And fought with all thy might.
A strictly honest life you led, Generous with hand and heart;
And never a stranger you turned out Into the cold and dark.
Yes, honest and just to all mankind,
Thou dealt with friend and foe; " Do unto others as ye would Have others do to you. "
An honest man, God's noblest work, Has passed to the other shore;
Oh, may we meet our father dear. Where parting is no more.
No murmur or complaint was heard, As loved ones cared for thee;
As softly falls an autumn leaf From off the withered tree.
" I'm going home, dear friends, " he said, ' Don't weep for mo to-night, " And gently waved his aged hand, And the spirit took its flight.
We loved our dear old father well;
Yes, child and grandchild, all; And now we wander here below,
Waiting for our call.
Oh, may we all be gathered home,
A large unbroken band; And gather 'round our Father's throne,
And clasp our loved, one's hand.
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