Pages 96 - 97 – Poem “Mizpah”

Pages 96 - 97 – Poem “Mizpah” Transcribed

Mizpah

Go thou thy way, and I go mine,
Apart, yet not afar;
Only a thin veil hangs between
The pathways where we are.
And “God keep watch ‘tween thee and me”;
This is my prayer;
He looks thy way, He looketh mine,
And keeps us near.

I know not where thy road may lie,
Or which way mine will be;
If mine will lead thro’ parching sands
And thine beside the sea;
Yet God keeps watch ‘tween thee and me,
So never fear;
He holds thy hands, He claspeth mine,”
And keeps us near.

Should wealth and fame perchance be thine,
And my lot lowly be,
Or you be sad and sorrowful,
And glory be for me,
Yet God keep watch ‘tween thee and me;
Both be His care;
One arm round thee and one round me
Will keep us near.

I sigh sometimes to see thy face,
But since this may not be,
I’ll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
“I’ll keep you both beneath my wings,”
This comforts, dear; One wing o’er thee
and one o’er me,
Will keep us near.

And though our paths be separate,
And thy way is not mine,
Yet coming to the Mercy seat,
My soul will meet with thine.
And “God keep watch ‘tween thee and me,”
I’ll whisper there.
He blesseth thee, He blesseth me,
And we are near.

Lina Boultbee's gravesite

On the weekend I was able to visit the grave site and pay respect to Lina. It was strange visiting the grave of someone I've never met. When I looked at the headstone I couldn't help wondering if she would mind me reading her diary, or transcribing it onto the internet. For some reason seeing a real grave and knowing Lina's body was buried below gave the diary even more worth, and made the diary contents even more intriguing.

It was a very large marble grave with a plain marble headstone. I was expecting it to be more plain for some reason but I imagine it would have cost a lot in its time.

After finding the grave amongst the hundreds of headstones I photographed it so that there was a record of it to go on this blog with the diary pages. It is hard to believe that we have gone from knowing nothing about the diary, to having more and more information about Lina and even visiting her grave site.

I knew she was buried at the Wivenhoe Cemetery in Burnie through the eHeritage function on the State Library of Tasmania website.

I am looking forward to finding out some more information soon, as we keep on reading the diary of Lina J. Boultbee.

Pages 93 - 94 – Poem “They’re dear to God”

Pages 93 - 94 – Poem “They’re dear to God”

They’re dear to God
“Be ye followers of God as dear children” Eph 5:1

Oh that when Christians meet and part,
These words were graved on every heart,
They’re dear to God!
However wilful and unwise,
We’ll look on them with reverent eyes,
They’re dear to God!
Oh, wonder! To the Eternal One
Dear as his own Beloved Son;
Dearer to Jesus than His blood,
Dear, as the Spirits fixed abode:
Yes, dear to God!

When tempted to give pain for pain,
How would this thought our words restrain
They’re dear to God!
When truth couples us to contend
What love with all our strife should blend,
They’re dear to God!
When they would shun the pilgrims lot,
For this vain world. Forsake them not,
But win them back with love and prayer
They never can be happy there,
If dear to God.

Oh, how return a brothers blow,
The heart whose harshness wounds thee so,
Is dear to God,
Oh, who beneath the cross can stand,
And then from one hold back the hand
Dear to our God.
How with rough words can we conflict
Knowing each pang our words inflict,
Touches the heart once pierced for us,
The hearts we wring and torture thus
Are dear to God.

For is there here us strength in love
The love that knits in joy above,
All dear to God,
By the same woes and toils opprest,
We lean upon One faithful breast,
And hasten to the same repose;
How bear, or do enough for those
So dear to God?

For is there here us strength in love
The love that knits in joy above, all dear to God,
By the same woes and toils opprest,
We lean upon One faithful breast,
And hasten to the same repose;
How bear, or do enough for those
So dear to God?

Page 92 – Clipping “I Will’s!” (A POEM)

Page 92 – Clipping “I Will’s!” (A POEM)

I Will’s

Did you ever try to count the times you have to say “I will?”
For one, it’s necessary when you’re asked to pay the bill;
And when your Cousin Harry wants to take you for a row;
And when, unless you kiss him, he declines to let you go.
And when you’re asked to go a walk with Edwin all alone,
Or learn the right and proper way to squeeze if you are shown;
And when you are requested to believe that you’re “a dear”,
And that you have the prettiest nose and sweetest little ear.
And then there comes the time when Jack will ask you to be his Jill.
When, of course, you lose your voice, and have to whisper that you will.

Page 91 Transcribed: Poem- Be friendly on the way

Page 91 Transcribed: Poem- Be friendly on the way

Be friendly on the way

I have journeyed on life’s highway till the dial points to noon,
And I’ve learned some useful lessons on the way,
I have proved them oér and oér, and prize them more and more
And I think you can depend on what I say.
You may hold yourself aloof, and may think it is a proof
That you’re made of some superior sort of clay,
But you always find it pays in many different ways,
To be friendly to the people on the way.

If the day is dark and dreary, and the way is rough and steep,
And some weary brother falters on the road,
You will never feel the weight, be the burden small or great,
If you turn about and ease him of his load.
And you’ll often see the time when the sovereign merry chime
Will be a friendly offering most meet
When to give a little sum, some mishap to overcome,
Will keep some needy brother on his feet.

I have learned that shabby garments often clothe a noble soul,
And misfortune lies in wait for great and small;
Better help a friend today who is stranded by the way-
For who knows but that tomorrow we may fall.
Then speak out before the crowd, let your voice ring clear and loud,
And put your heart in every word you say
For a friendly word, you know, or a face with smiles aglow,
May help a downcast brother on the way.

“Alexandra”
June, 14 1904

Page 90 Transcribed: Poem- The way of the world

The way of the world

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and all your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is a room in the halls of pleasure
for a long and lordy train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Page 89: clipping transcribed

Page 89: clipping transcribed

Between 89 and 90 there were two clippings that appear to be taken from the same publication as some of the ones that appeared earlier in the diary. As I have said before I don’t think this is a newspaper but rather some sort of Christian publication.

I have put the two clippings on one blog entry.

-------------------

Clipping A

The Clock

Our little clock, mamma’s and mine,
High on her mantel dwells;
And when one knows just how it goes,
Such pleasant things it tells.

Thus when it points for tea at four
It says to us: “Just two hours more.”
Gladly at five it chimes this song:
“One hour is not so very long.”
We understand it ticks.
Then settling in the window seat,
We hark for footsteps on the street,
For father comes at six.

--

Yes or no?

He thought I said “Yes.” But I’m sure I said “No.”
My heart was a-beating, my cheeks were aglow;
I looked on the ground, and I thought he would go.
He thought I said “Yes,” but I’m sure I said “No.”
Now what could I do? For he thought I said “Yes.”
He sat close beside me, and you’ll never guess!
If you look at me so, I cannot confess!
He --- I’m sure I said “No,” but he thought I said “Yes.”

-------

Clipping B

HATRED

Hate not. It is not worthwhile. Your life is not long enough to make it pay to have ill-will or hard thoughts towards any man. What if that man has cheated you or that woman played you false? What is the friend you trusted above all has forsaken you in time of need, or, having gained your confidence, your love, has turned upon you and treats you with cold formality? Let it go/ Think not upon it; turn your mind to nobler things, lest resentment take the place in your heart which your friend once had. All who now misunderstand or misconstrue your words and deeds will be more sorry for it thereafter than you, even in your deepest disappointment and grief, can be.

--

THE QUIET HOLIDAY

If you really want to enjoy a day’s outing do take things quietly. Don’t overlook the fact that you have come out for a change, as you are apt to do, and put in more exertion than would happen in an ordinary working-day. I am speaking to the worker of course, not the girl who is fortunate enough to have no need to labour. There is nothing like getting to the sea or into the country for a change; but remember there is no pleasure in scurrying about for the purpose of telling your friends “how far you’ve been.” Enjoy Nature when you can. Sit in the field and gaze on the things around you; sit by the river and watch the tide flowing; rest under a tree and read a book; lie in a boat and drift with the tide flowing; rest under a tree and read a book; lie in a boat and drift with the tide, taking in the scene by early stages – that's the way to get a rest and a change. Don’t whizz about as if you only had a month to live. Holidays are rest days; therefore rest.

Page 88 : Poem- The way of it

Page 88 Transcribed: Poem- The way of it

The way of it

This is the way of it, wide world over,
One is beloved, and one is the lover,
One gives and the other receives.
One lavishes all in a wild emotion,
One offers a smile for a life's devotion,
One hopes and the other believes.
One lies awake in the night to weep
And the other drifts off in a sweet sound sleep.

One soul is aflame with a godlike passion,
One plays with love in an idler's fashion,
One speaks and the other hears.
One sobs, I love you, and wet eyes show it,
And one laughs lightly, and says, I know it,
With smiles for the other's tears.
One lives for the other and nothing beside,
And the other remembers the world is wide.

This is the way of it, sad earth over,
The heart that breaks is the heart of the lover,
And the other learns to forget.
For what is the use of endless sorrow?
Though the sun goes down, it will rise tomorrow;
And life is not over yet.
Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other,
That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox