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Posts Tagged ‘Maine’

Creation’s Lord, we give Thee thanks
That this Thy world is incomplete;
That battle calls our marshaled ranks;
That work awaits our hands and feet.

That Thou hast not yet finished man;
That we are in the making still,
As friends who share the Maker’s plan
As sons who know the Father’s will.

Beyond the present sin and shame,
Wrong’s bitter, cruel, scorching blight,
We see the beckoning vision flame,
The blessèd kingdom of the right.

What though the kingdom long delay,
And still with haughty foes must cope?
It gives us that for which to pray,
A field for toil and faith and hope.

Since what we choose is what we are,
And what we love we yet shall be,
The goal may ever shine afar—
The will to win it makes us free.

 

William De Witt Hyde was born this date, 9/23/1858, at Win­chen­don, Mass­a­chu­setts. He grew up with rel­a­tives (after his parent’s demise) in Keene, New Hamp­shire. He was ed­u­cat­ed at Phil­lips Acad­e­my in Ex­e­ter, Har­vard (ba­che­lor’s de­gree), Union The­o­lo­gic­al Sem­in­ary, and An­do­ver The­o­lo­gic­al Sem­in­ary.

 

He was a Congrega­tional pas­tor in Pat­er­son, New Jer­sey (1883-85).  From 1885 to 1917 he was pre­si­dent of Bow­doin Coll­ege (founded 1794).  His works in­clude: Practical Eth­ics, 1892, Practical Ideal­ism, 1897, God’s Ed­u­ca­tion of Man, 1899. Wrote “Crea­tion’s Lord, We Give Thee Thanks.”  Hyde died 6/29/1917, at Bruns­wick, Maine.

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JULY 10 – Has been ONE hot day.

1911  105 degrees at North Bridgton, Maine (state record)

1913  134 degrees F Greenland Ranch,California (U.S.record)

1936  109 degrees F Cumberland & Frederick, Maryland (state record)

1936  110 degrees F at Runyon, New Jersey (state record)

1936  111 degrees F Phoenixville, Pennsylvania (state record)

1936  112 degrees F at Martinsburg, West Virginia (state record)

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Jesus loves me! this I know,
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong;
they are weak but He is strong.

Refrain

Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus loves me! loves me still,
‘tho I’m very weak and ill,
that I might from sin be free,
bled and died upon the tree.

Jesus loves me! He who died
heaven’s gate to open wide;
He will wash away my sin,
let His little child come in.

Jesus loves me! He will stay
close beside me all the way.
Thou hast bled and died for me,
I will henceforth live for Thee.

Jesus loves me when I’m good. 
When I do the things I should. 
Jesus loves me when I’m bad, 
but it makes him oh so sad.

William Batchelder Bradbury died this date, 1/7/1868, at Mont­clair, New Jer­sey.  He composed the tune for “Jesus Loves Me.”  His most enduring hymn tunes include Bradbury (“Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us”)  Woodworth (“Just As I Am”),  Yarbrough (“Take My Life, and Let It Be”) and the hymn melodies to “He Leadeth Me,” “The Solid Rock” and “Sweet Hour of Prayer.” Bradbury was born 10/6/1816, at York, Maine.

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More love to Thee, O Christ, more love to Thee!
Hear Thou the prayer I make on bended knee.
This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest;
Now Thee alone I seek, give what is best.
This all my prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Let sorrow do its work, come grief or pain;
Sweet are Thy messengers, sweet their refrain,
When they can sing with me: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise;
This be the parting cry my heart shall raise;
This still its prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Elizabeth Payson Prentiss was born this date 10/26/1818, at Portland, Maine.  She was a Congregationalist schoolteacher and poet who in 1845 married a minister. One of her poems became the hymn “More Love to Thee” written out of a broken heart for the loss of a child. The original poem was originally printed as a leaflet. She died 8/13/1878 at Dor­set, Ver­mont.

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More love to Thee, O Christ, more love to Thee!
Hear Thou the prayer I make on bended knee.
This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest;
Now Thee alone I seek, give what is best.
This all my prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Let sorrow do its work, come grief or pain;
Sweet are Thy messengers, sweet their refrain,
When they can sing with me: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise;
This be the parting cry my heart shall raise;
This still its prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Elizabeth Payson Prentiss died this date, 8/13/1878 at Dor­set, Ver­mont.  Born Elizabeth Payson (10/26/1818), she in 1845 married Dr. George Lewis Prentiss.  This native of Portland, Maine became a school teacher but is primarily remembered as the author of this hymn.

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“A Psalm of Life”

 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
        Life is but an empty dream ! —
   For the soul is dead that slumbers,
        And things are not what they seem.

 

    Life is real !   Life is earnest!
        And the grave is not its goal ;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
        Was not spoken of the soul.

 

    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
        Is our destined end or way ;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
        Find us farther than to-day.

 

    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
        And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
        Funeral marches to the grave.

 

    In the world’s broad field of battle,
        In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
        Be a hero in the strife !

 

    Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant !
        Let the dead Past bury its dead !
    Act,— act in the living Present !
        Heart within, and God o’erhead !

 

    Lives of great men all remind us
        We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
        Footprints on the sands of time ;

 

    Footprints, that perhaps another,
        Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
        Seeing, shall take heart again.

 

    Let us, then, be up and doing,
        With a heart for any fate ;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
        Learn to labor and to wait.

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born this date (2/27/1807) in Port­land, Maine.

He was one of the greatest poets of America.  See also his “Oh, How Blest Are Ye Whose Toils Are Ended” And his well known Christmas Carol “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”  He died 3/24/1882.

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