And to my little corner spot,
True friends and loved ones come;
They carry on where I have failed
And make a happy home.
God bless this humble place for good,
And may each passing day
Have helpful words and kindly deeds
For those who come this way.

I wish for you at eighty five,
A cozy little nook,
A radio, a flower or two,
Some pictures and a “Book,”
And dear ones come and give you joy,
That you can truly say:
“I thank you, heavenly Father,
For another lovely day.”

Mrs. Herbert Conklin
November 27, 1952 - 85th birthday

Words fail to express the sheer delight
Of the moments spent in that quiet flight;
We linger with each beloved face
Till the time is short; we must see the place.

O there is a task I tried to do
But somehow never could see it through;
There is the pleasure I meant to give
And a plan of life I sought to live.

May I try again--How strange it seems
We have only been to the land of dreams.
Though distant the goal and ills betide
We rejoice, for love and faith abide.

They live to guide us, they seek to bless,
To show us the worth of tenderness,
Till the aspirations of heart and mind,
In the Great Beyond fruition find.

M. Gladwyn Conklin.
January 1, 1936

We may not call these lowly
When worthy deeds are wrought,
And wise decisions rendered
By giving thee a thought.

Oh winsome flower, so fragile
A passing breeze could blow
Thy petals from the stamen--
I must not let them go.

Mrs. Herbert Conklin
January 7, 1941

The storms of winter gather,
Death follows in their train,
While want and toil and watchful foes,
Test heart and strength and brain.
With confidence unshaken
And courage born of prayer,
They render to Jehovah,
Thanksgiving for His care.

Three centuries and round us
The light of Plymouth gleams;
They “builded better than they knew,”
The altar of their dreams.
We bow before that altar
Where men for right have striven,
And guard for our posterity,
What they to us have given.

M. Gladwyn Conklin
November 19, 1936

On Christmas tree and festal board,
The candle lights will glow.
And merry voices greet us,
Across the glistening snow;
Yet it would not be Christmas,
Without the dancing eyes
Of children with their treasures--
That look of glad surprise.

Perhaps that artless childhood,
The Prince of Life beguiled,
Because He chose the lovely way
Of coming as a child;
And then He made a birthday,
To fill each heart with joy--
A Christmas time Foreget-Me-Not,
For every girl and boy.

Then lest some little stocking
Should chance to go unfilled,
Some child should miss the message,
The Court of Heaven willed,
Just fill another stocking,
The “goodwill” notes prolong,
That giver and receiver
May share the angels’ song.

M. Gladwyn Conklin
December 12, 1936

Just the same old thought we have heard before,
“Old Year, can you bring us something more
From your store of wisdom? We fain would hear
A word we need for the untried year.”
“Be kind!”

“O dear Old Year, we have loved you so,
I pray thee, why this haste to go?”
He turned with a look of tenderness,
Of benediction, a last caress--
“Be kind!”

M. Gladwyn Conklin

The heavens above us
Are lavish with light,
The rain-drops are wooing
Coy blossoms in sight;
The paschal moon’s glow,
Proves its worth understood,
The stars sing together
That God is good.

We, too, would awaken
And join in the song
That nature’s vast chorus
Is rolling along;
Confirming the message
Each springtime renewed,
In swelling crescendoes,
That God is good.

M. Gladwyn Conklin.
April 10, 1936

Little joys and sorrows
Must be understood;
Just a bite of something
May taste “awful good,”
Visions of the future
Budding hopes inspire
Listening to a grandchild
Beside a cozy fire.

How the years slip from us,
How the hour recalls,
Other simple pictures
Hung on memory’s walls;
Angels seem to listen,
Hearts to heaven aspire
Sitting with a grandchild
Beside a cozy fire.

M. Gladwyn Conklin
November 27, 1935

It is a path we sometimes miss,
Amid life’s stress and care
For only noble thoughts and words
And helpful deeds are there;
The flowers of patience blossom red,
The lights of kindness gleam,
Humility wild, fragrance shed
When love becomes supreme.

What though the way is rough and steep
We fain would rest awhile,
Our footsteps falter ere we learn
To go the second mile,
An unseen Form is by our side,
His peace abides within,
And other feet will seek the path
To walk the way with Him.

O Life divine, Thy life impart
Sublime the will and cleanse the heart,
Help me the path of love to take
And keep the same for Thy dear sake.

M. Gladwyn Conklin
October 3, 1935

Tune: No. 99 Hymnal

Note: Author marked “omit” on the last four lines after publication in the Watertown Daily Times.

The blossoms, brightening the wayside,
Caressed by sun and shower,
The handiwork of their Creator,
Have served their little hour.
The lives that give themselves for others
The truest worth attain;
If we can brighten one small corner
We shall not live in vain.

Then grant to me the simple pleasure
To fill each passing day,
With deeds of kindness, high endeavor
Along an upward way.
I know there’s One who marks my pathway
I leave to Him the rest,
If I may only live to serve Him
And try to do my best.

My best to live as Christ would have me,
To serve with ready sympathy,
Till love shall reach its full fruition
And joy abides with me.

M. Gladwyn Conklin
October 25, 1935

Sometimes their pathway here below,
Led where the shadows play,
Life’s sweetest flowers seem to bloom
Just outside the way.
Jesus lighted the pathway dim
Showed the way leading to Him,
This is the song that the angels sing
When the sunset tints the sky.

Often we too may weary grow
Thinking the trail is lost,
Often forget the prize we seek
Far outweighs the cost.
Angels beckon the way to heaven,
Tell us strength for the day is given,
That is the reason the clouds are riven
When the sunset tints the sky.

If we are tender, brave and true,
Loyal to Him each day,
Scattering seeds of golden deeds,
Ever along life’s way,
We may sheaves from the harvest bring
To the feet of our Saviour King,
Echo the song that the angels sing
When the sunset tints the sky.

Minnie A. Conklin
Original music.

Its stripes, though so fair, were not made to adorn,
They tell of the time when our nation was born;
Each star in its place is proclaiming to all
That “united we stand but divided we fall.”

United, to nurture a bounteous land
By power of the mind and skill of the hand,
Where virtue is honor and justice reward,
Lo, blessed the nation whose God is the Lord.

Wherever it floats, may our flag ever be
A pledge of protection on land or at sea,
But never a sign of aggression and dread,
Or hang at halfmast because honor is dead.

Each humble observer of order and law,
Is doing his part to remove the last flaw
That mars its fair name, that it never shall drag
In the dust of defeat. Thus we honor the flag.

Minnie A. Conklin

In the yesteryear, all fair and bright,
I was called to linger so near the rim
Of the far horizon, I caught a glimpse
Of the great beyond through the shadows dim.

And a sense of the presence of One divine,
Came over my spirit with healing power,
And a peace that the world could never give
Sustained and kept in that trying hour.

And I knew that the future the great unknown,
Was filled with a glory beyond compare,
Till I could not chose, if the choice were given
To linger here or to journey there.

O wondrous gift of eternal life
Through the merits of Christ our risen Lord
That sweet assurance may come to all
Through prayer and a trust in his holy Word.

So I bring a message of hope and cheer,
To those who are burdened with grief or pain
The horizon leads through the vestibule
To the home where we meet our own again.

Minne A. Conklin
June 7, 1941 Written after hearing a radio meditation by Rev. C. T. Holcombe.

We hear with joy our own church bell,
Resounding o’er the way,
An invitation in its tone,
A welcome in its lay,
“O come and worship”--hear its voice,
In accents sweet and clear;
We rise and answer to the call,
And feel that God is near.

We too may ring the bells of life
The bells of hope and peace,
Of justice to our fellow men,
Till war and strife shall cease
A people will not miss the goal
Or fail to do their part
Whose church bells have the power to stir
Emotions in the heart.

No panoply of armament,
No pride of race or creed,
Will usher in the “age of peace”
Or meet the world’s great need--
A universal church of God
Where harmony may dwell,
Yet all responding to the call
From their own church bell.

Minnie A. Conklin

May we united stand
To guard our cherished land,
Our aims preserve,
Lest we shall hear the knell,
Falling from freedom’s bell,
Resound around the world,
Teach us to serve.

Then in a world at peace,
Where fear and conquest cease,
Be Thou our guide.
Grant that our shores may be
Portals of liberty;
On Thy security
May we abide.

Minnie Gladwyn Conklin
December 30, 1941

Are we sowing seeds of peace and love,
Or to harvest war and hate?
Is the Sabbath to be an holy day,
Or one to desecrate?
Shall strong drink take its toll of life,
Of innocense and pride?
These questions come to each of us,
And we can help decide.

Dear citizens of this great land,
Take time to look and see
What kind of seed we’re sowing.
What shall the harvest be?
God’s promises and warnings
Their tryst will surely keep.
Whatsoever a nation sows
That shall it also reap.

M. Gladwyn Conklin
August 17, 1936

In many ways Thy love has been reflected;
We thank Thee for the help and comfort given;
The rainbow of Thy promise has not failed us;
The clouds were riven, the clouds were riven.

Accept our thanks for seed time and for harvest,
For all the gifts from nature’s lavish hand;
For quietness, for wise and noble leaders,
For this fair land, for this fair land.

We humbly ask Thy guidance for the future;
May peace prevail and wisdom mark our way;
Thy kingdom spread, till every tribe and nation
Shall own Thy sway, shall own Thy sway.

Help us to come with more than verbal homages,
Our hearts, our lives, we offer at Thy feet,
To live to serve--thus only can we render
An homage meet, an homage meet.

Minnie A. Conklin

Tune: Hymnal No. 431, with adaptations. Hymnal No. 145, with adaptations.

The angels sang o’er Bethlehem’s sacred hillside,
Glory to God, peace and good will to men;
This Christmastide may we their message hasten
And send the echoes back again.

The shephards heard with joy the wondrous story
That Christ, the Son of God, had come to earth;
Now countless millions bow in adoration
And celebrate the Saviour’s birth.

The wise men brought their gold and myrrh and incense,
And traveled for the new born King to greet;
Our gifts of love, obedience, and service
We offer at Messiah’s feet.

Haste the glad day when all shall hear the message,
That sin and death no longer hold their thrall;
The Christ yet comes--prepare for Him a welcome
And gladly crown Him Lord of all.

Minnie A. Conklin

Tune: No. 431 Hymnal, with adaptations.

Gracious Father, while we render
Homage in thy courts to-day,
May thy presence, pure and tender,
Fill our hearts, we humbly pray;
Sin and sloth and need confessing
We would come to seek thy face;
Grant thy pardon and thy blessing
Through the merits of thy grace.

As we lift our hearts and voices
In the hymns of grateful praise,
As each seeking soul rejoices
In the love thy care displays.
May the graces we inherit
Fit us for the daily need;
Life abundant, winsome spirit,
Are the gifts for which we plead.

Love that passeth understanding
Sealed the great redemptive plan,
Sacrifice and mercy blending
Brought eternal life to man;
Glory, honor and thanksgiving
Unto Christ our Lord belong;
Life replete, from him receiving
Forms the burden of our song.

We would seek no other glory,
We can have no higher aim,
Than to tell redemption’s story,
Magnify the Saviour’s name;
Then, our Father, while we render
Homage in thy courts to-day,
May that spirit, warm and tender,
Fill our hearts we humbly pray.

Minnie A. Conklin

O Living Truth, attend our way,
That from thy care we shall not stray;
Attune our hearts to sing the praise
Of him whose mercy crowns our days;
May we a faithful witness bear,
The gospel message freely share,
And teach our falt’ring lips to frame
A tribute to thy worthy name.

O Power Divine, thyself reveal
In tender, intimate appeal,
And in the quiet, trysting hour,
Endue our lives with winsome power,
When we regard the sacrifice
That freely paid redemption’s price,
May heart and voice and life acclaim
The praise of our Redeemer’s name.

Minnie A. Conklin

Abide with us, Our Father,
Thy nature to impart,
A vital, unseen Presence
That comes to every heart;
A love that leads to service
A faith enriched by prayer,
A hope that spans the future
And seeks fulfillment there.

We thank thee for the glory
Of earth and sea and sky,
For nature’s rich adorning
And bounteous supply,
For life so full of meaning,
For peace whate’er betide,
A Saviour to redeem us,
The Spirit for our guide.

We thank thee, Gracious Father,
That each of us may share
In making, for thy children,
A dwelling place more fair,
That Christ may be exalted
Wherever man has trod,
The earth a sanctuary--
The temple of our God.

Mrs. Minnie A. Conklin

Christ for the world; repeat the strain
Lest we forget our Lord’s command,
Or fail to sense the urgent need
To bear the news to every land.

O Zion, haste, fulfill thy trust,
Go forth to meet the promised day
As open minds and waiting hearts
Rejoice to know the living way.

Spirit of Power, endue our lives
With active love and noble aim,
To use the gifts thy grace bestows
To magnify the Saviour’s name.

Christ for the world; diffuse the light
Of love and truth, that it may shine
O’er thronged way and lonely trail,
That all may know the Life divine.

Mrs. Minnie A. Conklin

Sometimes the clouds of doubt arise.
And faith seems growing dim,
But Christ a full assurance gives,
I look away to Him;
But Christ a full assurance gives,--
I look away to Him.

And if the waves of trouble roll,
Like a tempestuous sea,
Then there is One who calms the storm,--
The Christ of Galilee;
Then there is One who calms the storm,--
The Christ of Galilee.

Sometimes temptation’s subtle power
Would lure my soul away,
I look to Him who holds me fast,--
The Christ of Calvary;
I look to Him who holds me fast,--
The Christ of Calvary.

And when the shadows of the night,
Encircle mine or me,
A living Christ will be our guide,--
A pledge of victory;
A living Christ will be our guide,--
A pledge of victory.

Minnie A. Conklin

Tune: No. 455, Hymnal

Chorus:

There’s a joy in my heart; it will never depart,
No matter what ills may betide,
And rivers of blessings flow over my soul,
Since Jesus has come to abide.

I seek for no pleasure apart from His will,
No vanities challenge my pride,
I find peace and comfort each step of the way
Since Jesus has come to abide.

When life’s work is ended and heaven’s morning dawns,
And gladly I stand by His side,
The joy of eternity surely will be;
With Him I shall ever abide.

Minnie A. Conklin

Tune: No. 106, Worship and Praise

Grateful homage we would render,
For He left His home above,
Sought His own, divinely tender
To reveal the Father’s love.
With redemption for His guerdon
Bore our sins, though undefiled,
Glorified the cross, to pardon
Every humble, contrite child.

How the resurrection story
Lights the future with its gleam,
To behold Him in His glory
Is not now an empty dream.
Living Author of Salvation
Whom to know is life indeed,
Through His free and full oblation,
Still He waits our cause to plead.

Heirs of promise, we inherit
Power to make the message known
Let the Pentecostal Spirit
Meet and claim us for His own.
Lord of life, and light and glory,
May our lips a tribute frame,
That will tell redemption’s story,
Magnify the Saviour’s name.

Minnie A. Conklin

Tune: 372 Hymnal

May Thy companionship impart
The peace divine within my heart,
A trust that quiets needless fears,
A faith that deepens with the years.

Not for myself alone, I plead,
But for each child of Thine in need,
In Sabbath calm and busy mart,
Reveal Thyself to every heart.

And unto us may grace be given
To show the way to Christ and heaven;
May we Thy wondrous love proclaim
And magnify the Saviour’s name.

Minnie A. Conklin
Tune: No. 259, Hymnal

Chorus:

I quench my thirst from Thee, O Word divine,
I claim Thy promises, for they are mine.
Transforming graces it offers to me,
And life eternal my Saviour with Thee.

Streams in the desert of sorrow and pain,
Making the weary take courage again;
Streams in the desert to meet every need,
Offered if only His promise we plead.

Ye who have wandered away from the fold,
Far from the path to the city of gold,
Come to the Saviour who maketh thee whole,
By the still waters restoreth thy soul.

Hearts have grown weary of waiting so long,
For the glad message in story and song,
Hasten the tidings that mercy is rife,
Share with the needy the water of life.

Minnie A. Conklin

Tune: 192, Exalt His Name

The blossom fades, the thought may rest secluded
Yet each is biding an approaching hour,
For treasured words and seeds for golden fruitage
Repose within that lovely thought and flower.

Each luscious fruit must first have had its blossom.
A thought precedes an act, howe’er sublime.
For coming days, O fill your heart, beloved,
With lovely thoughts in apple blossom time.

Minnie A. Conklin

Note: This version of the poem was published in The Times, date unknown.

June, what have you taught to me?
A need of patience for faith and love
That faults remain though I have striven
To overcome them. The joy of heavens
Rewards the true gift from above;
This, June, you have taught to me.

June, what have you left to me?
The same old treasures I’ve cherished long,
Home, and dear ones and daily cares,
The simple pleasures that each one shares,
These make my life one grand sweet song;
These, June, you have left to me.

June, what will you grant to me?
Content in my heavenly Father’s care,
Constant loyalty, day by day,
A courage that leads my heart to say,
“I’ll do my part,” and “trust in prayer;”
These, June, will you grant to me.

Minnie A. Conklin

A dress of varied hues her charm enhances,
Autumnal flowers scent the hazy air,
The garnered stores of garden, field and orchard
Remind us of our heavenly Father’s care.

If you are true, October, we will love you,
Call you the month for brides instead of June,
Hail to your perfect days while heaven is bending
To prove that nature is in perfect tune.

But if you fool us, can we forgive you?
If cold winds blow, squaw winter’s snowflakes drive
Remember, you’re too old for pranks, my lady,
If years were centuries you’d be seventy five.

Minnie A. Conklin