From the Archives: A Poem for St. Andrews by Spencer Pope

While sorting papers in the Archives Room, I came across this poem. The New Berlin Library had Spencer Pope’s obituary, so we can know a little more about him.

Spencer Benjamin Pope was born in the Town of Columbus in 1865, the son of Lloyd and Mary Hopkins Pope. His early years were spent in Columbus, but as a young man, he came to New Berlin, There he was engaged in the hardware business, for many years associated with Burhams and Black Hardware Co., Syracuse as a salesman and clerk. In the early 1930’s he retired and went to live in Oneonta. After the death of his wife, he returned to New Berlin and was a resident at the Eagle Hotel until his death.

He was married to Hattie E. Myers in 1889. Mrs. Pope was a milliner in New Berlin for many years. She passed away in 1933. He was father to one daughter,

Theral Pope Southern (Mrs. Herbert). At the time of his death he was grandfather to eight and great grandfather to eleven.

His obituary states he was an ardent reader and liked to write poetry. Many of his poems and stories were

published in the New Berlin Gazette and the Syracuse Post Standard.

Mr. Pope died in March 1950 and is buried in

Fairview Cemetery. Barbara Beardslee Dundas wrote that he was great uncle to Ann, Bill and her. She remembers as a child talking to him in Herb Southern’s hardware store.
“St. Andrew’s”

Majestic, calm and restful house of God:

Your buttressed walls of aged masonry,

Proclaim the strength He can bestow on us,

If we but place our faith and love in Him.

The ivy vine upon your walls, that clings

And climbs secure, e’en to the belfry roof,

So frail and fragile in its beauteous self,

Also a lesson give to us, of how

Secure support He can to us become,

If we extend our tendrils faith to Him,

The spacious lawn of pure emerald green,

Bids us to halt and say a prayer of thanks

For blessings, undeserved, which we receive.

And when we raise our eyes to gaze beyond,

Toward the west, we see from gentle slope

To rising eminence, the well kept graves

Of Kin and friends, that we have left with you,

To guard and keep, ‘till we may join with them

And stand before our god, on Judgement Day.

Spencer B. Pope


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