July 3, 2000
On the banks of Rosedale Water where the blooming flowers smiled,
--- Written by Floyd McKinley Brewer - 1918
Lived a pure and lovely daughter a rich skeptic's only child.
A large meeting was progressing near her father's flowery grove,
Where the sinners were professing all the bless of Christian love.
Father let me go show the Bible to this poor and ignorant clan,
That it's nothing but a libel on the character of man.
Go my daughter you are able to destroy their religious theme.
Go and prove their book a fable and their doctoring but a dream.
Dressed in all her pride and glory, s he went forth to join the throng.
Where she heard the gospel story both in sermon and in song.
Soon the thrill of deep conviction seized upon her guilty soul,
Filled her heart with affliction, that her mind could not control.
Then she arose, she without falter, and her sins began to tell.
She went forth unto the altar where in humble prayer she fell.
Casting all her prayers on heaven, all her prayers went to the throne,
Till her sins were all forgiven, and the Savior was her own.
Then she hastened to her father to inform him of God's love
And to tell her aged mother of a better place above.
Oh my daughter your behavior seals your doom without delay.
You must either yield your savior or your father's house today.
Oh dear father I will love you, and will be your willing slave,
But I cannot yield my savior; no I'd rather see my grave.
Here's your likely clothes and purses. Take them and at once depart.
For your prayers seam more like curses to my wounded broken heart.
Oh dear father I will love you though you drive me from your door.
I've a dearer friend than mother, who will keep me ever more.
Then be gone from me forever, and I'll see your face no more.
All your kindred ties you sever when you leave your father's door.
Oh dear Mary come and listen to this lovely voice I hear.
Oh come quickly in my system there's a weight I cannot bear.
Then the wife came to the veranda, and she heard the notes abroad.
Oh dear husband that's Amanda in sweet conference with her God.
Up the mountain dark and lonely, guided by her heavenly song,
Clasp his darling to his bosom, oh my child forgive my wrong.
Oh come home and save your father 'tis your prayers that let me live.
Come my child embrace your mother and our wretched hearts forgive.
Then they all were reunited, went rejoicing on their way,
To a home high up in glory in the reams of endless day.
--- Sent in by Lynda Horton Clark