Excerpt from Memoir of the Rev. Peter Labagh, D.D: With Notices of the History of the Reformed Protestant Dutch Church in North America

"He stands in the desk, that grave old man,
With an eye still bright, though his cheek is wan,
And his long white locks are backward rolled
From his noble brow of classic mould,
And his form, though bent by the weight of years,
Somewhat of its primal beauty wears.

He opens the page of the Sacred Word,
Not a whisper, nor low nor loud, is heard,
Even folly assumes a serious look,
As he readeth the words of the Holy Book,
And the thoughtless and gay grow reverent there
As he opens his lips in fervent prayer.

He stands as the grave old prophet stood,
Proclaiming the truth of the living God,
Pouring reproof on the ears of men
Whose hearts are at ease in their folly and sin,
With a challenge of guilt still unforgiven
To the soul unfitted, unmeet for heaven.

Oh, who can but honor that good old man,
As he neareth his threescore years and ten,
Who hath made it the work of his life to bless
Our world in its woe and wiekedness,
Still guiding the few, who were wont to stray
In the paths of sin, to the narrow way?

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