(Please note,
there are errors of different types in this section
and D. O. Parker corrects them in the next section)
Section 13
Berwick
Its People and Institutions as I
knew them about Sixty Years ago.
D. O. PARKER.
Wednesday, May 26, 1897
REV. WM. CHIPMAN.
The pastor with his shaven face,
Who preached the truth of sovereign grace,
Whose even locks of silken hair,
Were always dressed with strictest care,
Who wore fine cloths and linen neat,
And shining boots upon his feet;
Although he lived two miles away,
Was here so oft to preach and pray,
And great and good his christian fame,
I here record his fragrant name,
And make the story of his days,
A sweet memorial of praise,
With faith he fled the burning mount,
And drank Siloa’s living fount,
And then inspired to preach and tell,
The bliss of heaven, the woes of hell,
He wrote the wills of dying men;
In sympathy with people’s needs,
Gave counsel free and wrote their deeds,
Disdaining quack, and patent pills,
He oft prescribed for sundry ills;
And when a surgeon there was none,
Would dress a wound and set a bone.
With all the zeal at his command,
He labored long with heart and hand,
To place within the reach of all,
The district school and college hall,
And live to see on every hand,
Our schools the pride of this fair land.
He was our temperance pioneer;
The first to plead its interest here;
And when he spoke his friends refused,
With abstinence to be abused;
But not dismayed he labored on,
The battle fought and victory won,
At age of four score years and eight,
He entered in the pearly gate.
No more on earth, a saint above,
He wears the robes of light and love,
The love of gold, he bid adieu,
And took the pulpit for the pew,
Henceforth redeeming love to tell,
His merchandise he bid farewell,
And while aloud he did proclaim,
Salvation in Mesiah’s name,
To all the sons of men abroad,
He magnified the grace of God,
Beside the sick he often knelt,
And shared the pangs that others felt;
And by the anxious bed of death,
Where lingered yet the fleeting breath;
He pressed the dying hand in love,
And pointed to the life above.
And to the grave with solemn tread,
Where mourners leave their cherished dead
With prayer he laid their loved away,
In peace to wait the rising day.
While from his early studious youth,
His soul was filled with gospel truth,
He had a wealth of useful lore.
For times of need, rich held in store,
With words discreet and ready pen,
And fadeless crown of jewels rare;
The trophies of his faith and prayer.NOTES: - A somewhat extended biographical sketch, in prose, of Mr. Chipman will be given in my next section.