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That when the world with all its wilds & snares
Shall cease to operate on mortal things
My deathless part may realize that hope
Which as an anker held, tho' Achor's vale
My tottering steps, in full assurance may
Be swallowed up in sweet fruition,
Where endless peace & joy await the just.
Sept 9th 1941. T.B.

The above drawn off Sept 1896, by J. J. Brevard

This date we claim December thirty-one
Eighteen hundred forty is almost gone
This terminates another tedious year
And all we have to say is, that we're here
Where we may be at any future stage
Is quite uncertain, what may be our age.
To be, and not to be, is all we know

Whither we stay or if we further go.
Then let us cheerful hail the present now
And to the will of Heaven humbly bow
Not dig for wealth, nor yet for honors climb
But husband well our precious present time
If slanders should our present peace annoy:
They passed, unnoticed, do themselves destroy.
Reproaches, if they seem to make us fret
Pleaae well their Authors and they get