Appleby

 

The Lights Of Home

By Christopher Gelder

While tonight the stars were twinkling
And the moon shed silvery rays.
I was resting here, and thinking
Of the unforgotten days
Far away across the ocean,
In the land where I was born;
Once again I set in motion
Memories of the lights of Home.

There I saw a young man sleeping,
Sleeping soundly on his bed:
Then his master came, and speaking --
Woke him up, and quickly said,
"There is sickness, there is danger,
You must go at once for aid;
On this road you are a stranger,
But you must not be afraid."

Soon a horse was racing madly
Over many a weary mile,
And his rider urged him gladly
Faster, faster all the while.
Dark the night, no lights were burning,
Neither saw the guiding post:
Horse and rider missed the turning,
Hurried on and soon were lost.

In the darkness blindly groping,
Every effort seemed to fail:
Stumbling forward ever hoping
Once again to find the trail.
No one knows the mental torment,
Nor the danger places crossed,
Losing many precious moments
Ere we found the guiding-post.

Swiftly on the highway speeding,
Soon we reached our journey's end --
Got the help that we were needing, --
Hurried back, "around the bend."
Rushing on, mid fear and sadness,
Through the dark, before the dawn,
Till my heart was filled with gladness
When I saw the "Lights of Home."

Ah! this life is full of byways;
We must shun at any cost;
We shall wander off the "Highway"
If we miss the "guiding-post."
But our hearts would keep on humming,
And our feet would never roam,
If, along life's pathway running
We could see the "Lights of Home."

Many loving links now bind us,
But the day is sure to come,
When we leave our friends behind us --
And must travel on, alone;
O'er a "pathway" dark and lonely --
Through a valley deep and wide --
Pressing forward, hoping only,
Soon to reach the other side.

Think how glad will be the meeting
Over on the "other shore,"
And the loving, hearty greeting
Of the loved ones, gone before:
But I think that all our sadness
As we travel on alone,
Will be overcome with gladness
When we see the "Lights of Home."

 

In the sketch Dad wrote of his grandparents, he mentioned this poem and indicated that he thought it may have been speaking of the approaching death of one or the other of Christopher’s parents, and probably his father, since “his master,” not his father, gave him instructions for riding for help.  Christopher’s mother passed away when Christopher was only 11, and his father passed away almost exactly a year later.

I don’t know for sure, but it would seem likely that the destination of Christopher’s frightening midnight ride was to the nearest city, where there was probably a doctor.

Appleby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

Hilton was part of St Lawrence’s Parish (at least in 1563), so it’s entirely possible that we have ancestors buried here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately, Appleby Castle is closed now, and I wasn’t able to even get a glimpse of it. But here is the gate to the grounds: