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Beaver Harbour Baptist Church 1862-1962
by Madge E. Paul

A hundred years on this hill I've stood,
And many a tale would I tell if I could,
Many a year has my bell chimed clear,
Calling to all who have ears to hear.

Many a soul have come and gone
I have witnessed both sorrow, joy and song
The Baptism of folks so young and gay
That still climb the hill when old and gray.

In the early dawn, I have watched the fleet
Of fishing boats off the briny deep
When the sea would be calm
And the village asleep.

I have seen where they reached their haven at night
The clouds gather and darken-an awesome sight
The white capped waves by an unseen hand
Fling with fury against the land.

Beaver Harbour United Baptist Church

The smothering spray, flung high in the air
Tossing the boats at anchor there
The beam of the light across the wave
Warning of rocks, a life to save.

The winds and the waves soon calm will be
Though the beach be littered with the storms debris
And though there be morning, it is God's will
That I stand as their guardian on the hill.

With spire pointing to the sky
A reminder of better things on high
My bell still calls in sun or rain
Come-hear Gods message once again.

The passing years have wrought a change; of lights, and factories, car and planes.
Life's tempo quickens, till the pace, leaves leisure slight to seek God's grace.
But though folks to other lands may roam, in their memories linger still
The many lessons learned at home in the church upon the hill.

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