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OAK HILL written by Rev. Charles E. Luce (1874-1960)
Lest we lose the beauty that is found in the commonplace and the enjoyment of it.
The hour is young. The sun is about two hours on his day’s journey. The sky is clear but for a thin veil that will vanish with the traveling of the earth. While I am writing this appreciation, I am sitting on one of only two iron settees that invite rest on the beautiful, wooded knoll (that it might please us to call a park) that gives license to call it “Oak Hill.” By the hand of God was this hill made. In someone’s mind He brought forth a picture of the possible beauties that might be produced. The underbrush was cleared away and the oaks were gladly allowed to remain that they might give nesting and resting room to their bird companions, and shade to the velvety green sward that lies at their feet, and that they might hold converse with one another and with God in their own way as the years pile up like banks of roses.
Two seats on this beauty-spot may be enough for those who come to this little grove, but they are not enough to accommodate those who should come (even though they came in relays) and feast their soul on its manna.
Here is the picture that feeds my spirits this morning. Immediately in the foreground, at the foot of the Hill, nearly seventy feet below, runs the Cedar river, quiet, silvery, and graceful. I know not how many years it has been flowing; I know not how many more it will continue to flow, but it has flowed long enough to help to make my soul ready for eternity. Skirting this beautiful stream are clusters of willows backed up by wide-spreading elms that rise in grander heights. Mid-way in the scene is a pasture feeding its grazers. In the background is another bank of trees touching the skyline. Nestling among them rests a farm house. And in addition to this there is the song birds, the stillness of a day that has not yet gotten busy, and the uplift of being for a while apart with nature and God. You haven’t time to come to this place! The morning opens its doors early and has a welcoming hand and a pleasant voice for lovers-of-nature.
-Published in the Nashua Reporter and Weekly Nashua Post, October 4, 1923.
Rev Luce is buried in Row 13, Block 7, Lot 33, Grave 9
Lest we lose the beauty that is found in the commonplace and the enjoyment of it.
The hour is young. The sun is about two hours on his day’s journey. The sky is clear but for a thin veil that will vanish with the traveling of the earth. While I am writing this appreciation, I am sitting on one of only two iron settees that invite rest on the beautiful, wooded knoll (that it might please us to call a park) that gives license to call it “Oak Hill.” By the hand of God was this hill made. In someone’s mind He brought forth a picture of the possible beauties that might be produced. The underbrush was cleared away and the oaks were gladly allowed to remain that they might give nesting and resting room to their bird companions, and shade to the velvety green sward that lies at their feet, and that they might hold converse with one another and with God in their own way as the years pile up like banks of roses.
Two seats on this beauty-spot may be enough for those who come to this little grove, but they are not enough to accommodate those who should come (even though they came in relays) and feast their soul on its manna.
Here is the picture that feeds my spirits this morning. Immediately in the foreground, at the foot of the Hill, nearly seventy feet below, runs the Cedar river, quiet, silvery, and graceful. I know not how many years it has been flowing; I know not how many more it will continue to flow, but it has flowed long enough to help to make my soul ready for eternity. Skirting this beautiful stream are clusters of willows backed up by wide-spreading elms that rise in grander heights. Mid-way in the scene is a pasture feeding its grazers. In the background is another bank of trees touching the skyline. Nestling among them rests a farm house. And in addition to this there is the song birds, the stillness of a day that has not yet gotten busy, and the uplift of being for a while apart with nature and God. You haven’t time to come to this place! The morning opens its doors early and has a welcoming hand and a pleasant voice for lovers-of-nature.
-Published in the Nashua Reporter and Weekly Nashua Post, October 4, 1923.
Rev Luce is buried in Row 13, Block 7, Lot 33, Grave 9
