IN MEMORIAM

Rev. George Raphael Buick, M.A., L.L.D., Cullybackey
Who died at Damascus, April 28th1904

Toll, toll the bell, let there be light,
Unveil the monumental brass,
And read us from its lettered scroll
The words that as the seasons pass.

Shall keep in our remembrance long,
The name and fame of him who lies
His life work done – in sacred ground,
Beneath the distant Syrian skies.

Out went he at the Church’s call,
Like Abram, knowing not the way,
He trod Jerusalem’s hallowed streets,
He slept, with him ‘twas cloudless day.

With us ‘twas poignant grief and pain,
Dark night, hot tears, a flock bereft
Of shepherd dear, by sudden stoke,
An oak by lightning sharply cleft.

For all in all he was a Man,
A man of culture highly wrought,
A Christian poet who could weld
Choice words in lines of noble thought.

An earnest preacher, who at will
Deep Gospel truths could well unfold,
Could chide the careless child of sin,
And comfort sorrow’s stricken fold.

A man of science, who could draw
High lessons from the buried past
Who looked abroad with seeing eye,
And saw a little in the vast.

And wondrous works of Him who made
All things, the little and the great,
While like an open book he scanned
The ways of men, in Church and State.

A true-born patriot, who had read
His country’s story, in whose breast
A mingled pride and sorrow burned
For this “green island of the West.”

A man of high repute, and just;
A generous friend, a faithful guide,
Beloved at home, and when abroad
Borne high on honour’s swelling tide.

Then let us keep his memory green
In this dear land whose praise he sung,
Round these grey walls where year by year
His voice with pleasing accents rung.

That while the Maine runs to the sea,
And this tall spire with Sabbath bell
Calls worshippers from hill and lea
To hear another preacher tell

Of Him who once for sinners died,
The name of Buick may remain
An incense sweet, a power for good,
An inspiration to attain.

To higher spheres of useful life,
To wider views of God’s good world,
To virtue, ere the hosts of Death
Their battle standards have unfurled.

James Loughridge

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