HOMECOMING
A poem by Forest I. Robertson
(Information provided by Elizabeth Harrison for the 250th Anniversary Bulletin: Aug. 12, 2018)
“Homecoming” is held annually on the 1st Sunday in August at Brittain Presbyterian Church. Friends have suggested that I attempt to set this event in “verse”. In order to do that, I feel that It is necessary to give an inkling of the background of this historic church, which is the oldest church in the area, regardless of denomination.
A group composed of our forefathers left England shortly after the middle of the century. After a brief stop, perhaps in Rowan County, they moved to what is now Rutherford County, North Carolina, to form a community which they called “Little Britain”. Britain Presbyterian Church (which was changed to Brittain during the war) was founded about 1767-1769 and has been a living and growing institution since that time.
The communicants prospered relatively well in the new-found land estates and married, chiefly, among the members of their group of associates. They were sharply divided during the Revolution and, to a less extent, during the War between the States. But somehow, they maintained their loyalty to the established church.
In more modern times, the younger generations saw greener pastures in other areas and went to them, but the church continued to grow in stature and in importance.
In recent times, “Homecoming” has been set for the 1st Sunday in August and has now become an annual celebration. It is, by far, the best of its kind in Rutherford County and the surrounding area.
I feel it will be helpful to know this mini-history, or background, of the church and the community to better understand the poem, or “verse” following.
This history and poem were written by Forest I Robertson. Forest was a member of Brittain Presbyterian Church when he was a young man. He was a lawyer for many years and before he retired, he became a judge. He still has family members here (The George Watson Family). He is buried here in the Brittain Church cemetery.
“Homecoming” is held annually on the 1st Sunday in August at Brittain Presbyterian Church. Friends have suggested that I attempt to set this event in “verse”. In order to do that, I feel that It is necessary to give an inkling of the background of this historic church, which is the oldest church in the area, regardless of denomination.
A group composed of our forefathers left England shortly after the middle of the century. After a brief stop, perhaps in Rowan County, they moved to what is now Rutherford County, North Carolina, to form a community which they called “Little Britain”. Britain Presbyterian Church (which was changed to Brittain during the war) was founded about 1767-1769 and has been a living and growing institution since that time.
The communicants prospered relatively well in the new-found land estates and married, chiefly, among the members of their group of associates. They were sharply divided during the Revolution and, to a less extent, during the War between the States. But somehow, they maintained their loyalty to the established church.
In more modern times, the younger generations saw greener pastures in other areas and went to them, but the church continued to grow in stature and in importance.
In recent times, “Homecoming” has been set for the 1st Sunday in August and has now become an annual celebration. It is, by far, the best of its kind in Rutherford County and the surrounding area.
I feel it will be helpful to know this mini-history, or background, of the church and the community to better understand the poem, or “verse” following.
This history and poem were written by Forest I Robertson. Forest was a member of Brittain Presbyterian Church when he was a young man. He was a lawyer for many years and before he retired, he became a judge. He still has family members here (The George Watson Family). He is buried here in the Brittain Church cemetery.
HOMECOMING AT BRITTAIN
WESTWARD HO! YE MEN OF OLD!
WHY YEARN TO KNOW THE WESTERN SUN-SET GLOW?
IN COURAGE MILD, ADVENTURE BOLD,
LEARN WHAT MAKES THE HEAVENLY COLORS FLOW.
AS THEY SET SAIL ACROSS THE DEEP
IN QUEST OF WESTWARD TOTAL LORE,
MANY A TEAR BY NO REGRETFUL WEEP
FELL ON MERRY ENGLAND’S SHORE.
O’ER HILL AND STREAM, GOLD AND LAND
THEY SOUGHT ON NATURAL FOREIGN SOD;
BUT FIRST, WITH LOGS AND PINS AND HANDS,
THEY BUILT THE HOUSE OF GOD.
FOR FREEDOM’S CAUSE, BUT SOME FOR KINGS,
FACE TO FACE, THEY FOUGHT WITH EQUAL PRIDE;
THEN WORSHIPPED GOD IN SPIRIT’S THINGS
AND NOW IN HEAVENLY PEACE HERE LIE SIDE BY SIDE.
FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS, IT STOOD
AND KEPT THE FAITH WITH DOUGHTERS FEW,
IT WAS LIKE IT WAS – GOOD;
AND MANY WOUNDED SOULS WERE HEALED ANEW.
SAID YOUTH, OUR FATHERS SOUGHT LIBERTY;
EDUCATION AND KNOWLEDGE MAKE US LESS CONTENT.
IF WE STAY HERE WITHOUT SECURITY,
WHO, IN DEARTH, WILL PAY THE TAX AND RENT?
FOR SECURITY IN WEALTH, THEY WENT AWAY;
THEN BARTERED SECURITY FOR COMFORT AND FLAIR.
IT MAY BE THAT SOME WENT ASTRY,
TEMPTED BEYOND WHAT THEY WERE ABLE TO BEAR.
SAID ELDERS, LET US CELEBRATE ONE WAY,
INVITING ALL DESCENDANTS WHO SECRETLY YEAR
TO RE-LIVE THE PAST FOR JUST ONE DAY;
MEMORIES STILL MAY IMPEL RETURN.
COMES WELCOME AS NATURAL AS GRACE
FROM PREACHERS, CHOIRS, PEOPLE DUTIFUL;
SEPARATED FRIENDS, RE-UNITED, EMBRACE
IN SINCERE LOVE THAT IS BEAUTIFUL.
COMMON TO ALL IS A YEN TO BE FED;
ALL FESTIVALS END IN A FEAST.
ONLY THEY WHO HAVE NO BREAD
COMPLAIN OF HAVING NO LEAVENING YEAST.
UNDER GREAT OAKS, TABLES WERE SPREAD,
CHAIRS FOR FRIEND WITH FRIENDS WERE SPACED;
AND AFTER THANKS, LINES BY CHILDREN LED
FORMED AT SIDES BY LURE OF MORSELS PLACED.
THE WOMEN FOLK AMONG THEMSELVES DID VIE
WITH SPICE, CHERRIES, STRAWBERRIES, AND CHOCOLATE
FOR HONORS IN MOST TASTY CAKE AND PIE;
THEN FOUND THEM ALL TOO GOOD TO RATE.
CHOOSE HAM, STEAK, TURKEY AND SAUCE,
CORN, PEAS, TOMATOES, PICKLES SOUR AND SWEET;
SALADS, CASSEROLE, ONIONS WITH NO DROSS;
LEONADE AND TEA FOR A KING’S TREAT.
ADD JUICES OF APPLE MELLOW AND BAKED,
GRAPE, ORANGE, PEACH, PLUM, AND APRICOT,
CLEVERLY MIXED AND APARENTLY FAKED
TO SEEM LIKE WHAT THEY ARE NOT.
WELL DONE! SAID BOTH OLD AND NEW;
IT WAS AS IT SHOULD BE WITH FORGIVEN PRIDE.
FOR YEARS, THE OLD LOOKED BACK IN REVIEW;
AND THE YOUNGEST CRITIC, IN WISDOM, CRIED.
THEY WHO PLANNED FOR LOVED ONES GONE
CALL IT, “HOMECOMING” FOR THEM THAT ROAM;
BUT WE FROM COUNTRIES FAR AND LONG
CALL IT, “COMING HOME”.
FOREST I. ROBERTSON
WESTWARD HO! YE MEN OF OLD!
WHY YEARN TO KNOW THE WESTERN SUN-SET GLOW?
IN COURAGE MILD, ADVENTURE BOLD,
LEARN WHAT MAKES THE HEAVENLY COLORS FLOW.
AS THEY SET SAIL ACROSS THE DEEP
IN QUEST OF WESTWARD TOTAL LORE,
MANY A TEAR BY NO REGRETFUL WEEP
FELL ON MERRY ENGLAND’S SHORE.
O’ER HILL AND STREAM, GOLD AND LAND
THEY SOUGHT ON NATURAL FOREIGN SOD;
BUT FIRST, WITH LOGS AND PINS AND HANDS,
THEY BUILT THE HOUSE OF GOD.
FOR FREEDOM’S CAUSE, BUT SOME FOR KINGS,
FACE TO FACE, THEY FOUGHT WITH EQUAL PRIDE;
THEN WORSHIPPED GOD IN SPIRIT’S THINGS
AND NOW IN HEAVENLY PEACE HERE LIE SIDE BY SIDE.
FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS, IT STOOD
AND KEPT THE FAITH WITH DOUGHTERS FEW,
IT WAS LIKE IT WAS – GOOD;
AND MANY WOUNDED SOULS WERE HEALED ANEW.
SAID YOUTH, OUR FATHERS SOUGHT LIBERTY;
EDUCATION AND KNOWLEDGE MAKE US LESS CONTENT.
IF WE STAY HERE WITHOUT SECURITY,
WHO, IN DEARTH, WILL PAY THE TAX AND RENT?
FOR SECURITY IN WEALTH, THEY WENT AWAY;
THEN BARTERED SECURITY FOR COMFORT AND FLAIR.
IT MAY BE THAT SOME WENT ASTRY,
TEMPTED BEYOND WHAT THEY WERE ABLE TO BEAR.
SAID ELDERS, LET US CELEBRATE ONE WAY,
INVITING ALL DESCENDANTS WHO SECRETLY YEAR
TO RE-LIVE THE PAST FOR JUST ONE DAY;
MEMORIES STILL MAY IMPEL RETURN.
COMES WELCOME AS NATURAL AS GRACE
FROM PREACHERS, CHOIRS, PEOPLE DUTIFUL;
SEPARATED FRIENDS, RE-UNITED, EMBRACE
IN SINCERE LOVE THAT IS BEAUTIFUL.
COMMON TO ALL IS A YEN TO BE FED;
ALL FESTIVALS END IN A FEAST.
ONLY THEY WHO HAVE NO BREAD
COMPLAIN OF HAVING NO LEAVENING YEAST.
UNDER GREAT OAKS, TABLES WERE SPREAD,
CHAIRS FOR FRIEND WITH FRIENDS WERE SPACED;
AND AFTER THANKS, LINES BY CHILDREN LED
FORMED AT SIDES BY LURE OF MORSELS PLACED.
THE WOMEN FOLK AMONG THEMSELVES DID VIE
WITH SPICE, CHERRIES, STRAWBERRIES, AND CHOCOLATE
FOR HONORS IN MOST TASTY CAKE AND PIE;
THEN FOUND THEM ALL TOO GOOD TO RATE.
CHOOSE HAM, STEAK, TURKEY AND SAUCE,
CORN, PEAS, TOMATOES, PICKLES SOUR AND SWEET;
SALADS, CASSEROLE, ONIONS WITH NO DROSS;
LEONADE AND TEA FOR A KING’S TREAT.
ADD JUICES OF APPLE MELLOW AND BAKED,
GRAPE, ORANGE, PEACH, PLUM, AND APRICOT,
CLEVERLY MIXED AND APARENTLY FAKED
TO SEEM LIKE WHAT THEY ARE NOT.
WELL DONE! SAID BOTH OLD AND NEW;
IT WAS AS IT SHOULD BE WITH FORGIVEN PRIDE.
FOR YEARS, THE OLD LOOKED BACK IN REVIEW;
AND THE YOUNGEST CRITIC, IN WISDOM, CRIED.
THEY WHO PLANNED FOR LOVED ONES GONE
CALL IT, “HOMECOMING” FOR THEM THAT ROAM;
BUT WE FROM COUNTRIES FAR AND LONG
CALL IT, “COMING HOME”.
FOREST I. ROBERTSON