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TO MR. AND MRS. W. H. TAYLOR
I was born in old Ohio
Back in eighteen-fifty-two;
Of my life I'll write a story
And the same I'll tell to you.
Of my youth there's no importance,
I lived on an old blue farm,
And I've hauled rock on a rock sled,
So to me it has no charm.
Sixteen years I dwelt contented
In my happy childhood home
After that my dear old parents
Thought that they would like to roam.
So for Iowa we departed,
It must have been in '68,
For in '73 I wed her.
(I shall never forget the date.)
Two years then we lived together
E'er a child to us was born.
We have never had a parting;
Life has never been forlorn.
Two more then were born to cheer us
As we trod the path of life.
And we've always been most happy
Since I took her as my wife.
Together we've spent our springtime,
Gone through summer and through fall
Now life's winter we are living
As we list' the Master's call.
Friends we've made and friends have left us;
But true friends we know will stay.
Some will miss us and we wonder
What these few will have to say.
(Word from Author)
I had never known this couple
'Till about a year agone;
But I know them to be saintly;
And my whole heart they have won.
Nowhere was a man more welcome
To take rest beneath a roof.
Than in the house of Mr. Taylor
Nor does his dear wife stand aloof.
No one ever left there hungry,
If he were in need of food
Mother Taylor fixed up something,
And I know her cooking's good.
I suppose they've seen misfortune
Just the same as you or I,
But their prayers were ever answered
By our Father from on high.
If more couples would take pattern
After this old couple's life,
Then there'd be less tribulation
In the world there'd be less strife.
--Jerry J. Manigold, Author
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