“For the Jones Family of Bristol Springs” and “Only One Way” by Darius M. Ratcliff

GuideMeOThouGreatJehovah

FOR THE JONES FAMILY OF BRISTOL SPRINGS
Mr. and Mrs. Ward (Irene E.) Jones, Julia E. and Virginia A.

Yours is the home where the singers dwell,

Oft have I listened to their songs glad swell:

As they have followed the day’s occupations

Voices were raised in joyous pulsations.

Gone are the song birds now from their nest,

Stilled are the echoes that never knew rest,

Caught in the whirl of the maddening rush,

Stifling out music and bidding it hush.

Oh, may they sing through the world’s dark night

Songs of the gospel of light:

Hearts may they gladden by the songs that they sing,

Souls may they save by the message they bring.

ONLY ONE WAY
Changed from one by Mrs. Ward Jones. Written for Virginia to sing.

There’s only one way to heaven,

From palace or from slum;

Only one way to the Pearly Gate,

Only one way to come.

This is the way called Jesus,

The Glorious Son of God;

Jesus the world’s one Savior,

Who once here on earth has trod.

There’s only one way to Jesus,

But the gate is open wide;

There’s only one way to enter,

And be at the Savior’s side.

The way by the cross of Jesus:

To there be crucified,

Just by the cross of Jesus,

The cross where our Savior died.

“June Evening” by Darius M. Ratcliff, June 6,1944

South end of Canandaigua Lake, Bare Hill and Vine Valley, looking toward Canandaigua, New York

JUNE EVENING

Its evening on the farm,

The sounds of day are still;

Down by the woodland pasture

There calls a ship-poor-will.

(Actually beyond Sennett’s at Bristol Springs)

The trees beyond the gate,

Back giants of the night; (The Park)

With dense and inky mass

Shut all the north from sight.

A little mother owl

Must have a home nearby;

Her fuzzy furry brood

Wake up with dismal cry.

There’s one upon our house

(He also came down on the porch later.)

Exploring with big eyes;

A silent little ball

Outlined against the skies.

In darkened fields around

Are tiny flashing lights;

Wee firefly decorations

Of calm sweet summer nights.

The low melodious music

Of gentle evening’s breeze

Is whispered softly downward

From tops of rustling trees.

The daylight world’s asleep;

The farmers are in bed.

My thoughts to God I turn

By evening’s magic led.

Tonight God seems so near

I almost touch His hand.

There’s mystery in God,

More than I understand.

Photo above: Source – From the personal postcard collection of B. J. Johanningmeier