By R. E. Winsett[1]
On
the banks of Rosendale’s[2]
water
Where
the blooming flowers smiled;
Lived
a pure and lovely daughter,
A
rich skeptic’s only child.
Crowned
with knowledge, health and beauty,
Learned
in all her classic lore;
And
for virtue, love and duty,
She
was queen of Rosedale’s shore.
Famed
for genius, sense and wisdom,
She
became her parents’ pride;
When
she gained the skeptic’s system,
She
was almost deified,
Far
and wide they saw her power
Over
all disputants rise;
And
her genius seemed to tower
Like
a goddess in their eyes.
A
large meeting was progressing
Near
her father’s flowery grove,
Where
poor sinners were professing
All
the bliss of Christian love.
“Father,
let me show the Bible
To
this poor illiterate clan?
That
it’s nothing but a libel
On
the character of man.”
“Go,
my daughter, you are able
To
destroy their Sabbath theme;
Go
and prove their Book a fable
And
their doctrine all a dream.”
Dressed
in all her pride and glory
She
went forth to join the throng;
Where
she heard the Gospel story
Both
in sermon and in song.
Soon
a thrill of deep conviction
Seized
upon her slumbering soul;
Filled
her heart with an affliction
That
her mind could not control.
Calmly
rose she without falter;
All
her follies bade farewell;
And
came in before the altar,
Where
in humble prayer she fell.
Casting
all her care on heaven,
Every
prayer went to the throne;
Till
her sins were all forgiven,
And
the Saviour was her own.
Then
she hastened to her father,
To
inform him of God’s love;
And
to tell her aged mother
There’s
a better world above.
Well,
my daughter, it’s reported
You
have joined the ignorant horde,
To
their doctrines been converted
All
against your father’s word.
Oh
dear father, show me favor,
I’ve
not joined the ignorant horde,
But
I’ve found my blessed Savior,
Who
is Christ, the risen Lord.
Well,
my daughter, your behavior
Seals
your doom without delay,
You
must either leave your Savior,
Or
your father’s house today.
Oh
dear father, I will love you
Though
you drive me from your door,
None
on earth I’ll place above you,
But
I love my Savior more.
Then
begone from me forever,
I
will see your face no more,
All
your kindred thus you sever
When
you leave your father’s door.
Only
let me have your favor,
And
I’ll be your willing slave,
But
I sure can’t leave my Savior,
No,
I’d rather see my grave!
There’s
your likeness, clothes and purses,
Take
them, and at once depart,
For
your prayers seem more like curses
To
your father’s broken heart.
Goodbye,
father, will you meet me
Where
the happy millions dwell?
Here’s
my hand. Oh, will you meet me
Where
we’ll never say farewell?
My
dear mother, I have often
Thought
of riches, pride and wealth,
But
I’m now an outcast orphan
With
no home or friend on earth.
Though
my father and my mother
Drive
me homeless from their door,
I’ve
a friend more dear than either
Who
will keep me evermore.
Leaving
mansion, fields and fountain,
From
the scene she turned away,
Up
the wild and rocky mountain
Where
her path in twilight lay.
To
the bright and distant sago
Slowly
did she tromp along
While
her voice in lovely echo
Filled
the valley with her song.
Rosedale’s
evening mild and gentle
In
sweet zephyr found the moor,
And
the night had spread a mantle
When
the skeptic left his door.
Oh
dear Mary, come and listen
To
the lovely voice I hear,
Oh
come quick, for now my system
Feels
a weight I cannot bear.
The
wife came to the veranda
Where
she heard the tunes abroad,
Oh
dear husband, it’s Amanda
In
sweet congress with her Lord.
Hear
it through the starry regions
How
the heavenly anthems rise,
Oh
dear husband, her religion
Is
the gospel of the skies.
But
the words were scarcely spoken
Ere
she sank in anguish wild
And
the father’s heart was broken,
As
he fled toward his child.
Up
the mountain, dark and lonesome,
Guided
by her lovely song,
Clasped
his daughter to his bosom,
“O
my child! Forgive this wrong.”
“O
come home and save your father,
‘Tis
your prayer that lets him live;
Come,
my child, embrace your mother,
And
our wretched hearts forgive.”
“Yes,
my parents, I’ll go to you,
And
we’ll join the heav’nly theme,
Singing
glory, hallelujah,
To
our Saviour’s glorious name.”
Shouting
glory to her Saviour,
She
returned in heavenly love;
Where
her parents soon found favor,
In
the joys of heaven above.
They
with all their sins forgiven
Went
rejoicing on their way
To
their home high up in heaven,
In the realms of endless day.[3]
[1] Robert Emmett Winsett was born on a farm in Bledsoe County, Tennessee in 1876. He was interested in religious music, and graduated from the Bowman Normal School for Music in 1899. In 1903 he founded the R. E. Winsett Song Book Publishing Company. His books proved popular among the Free Will Baptists, General Baptists, Holiness, and the newly emerging Pentecostal Church. Robert married Birdie Bell Harris; they had three sons and two daughters. They made their home in Fort Smith, Arkansas. While there, Robert joined the Church of God (7th Day), where he eventually became a minister. Following his wife’s death, he returned to Tennessee. In 1930, he married Mary Edmonton; they had three children. A contemporary described him:
The blue eyed, gray haired Winsett was a homebody. He didn’t mix with others much except at camp meetings and singing conventions, where he would lead the lively singing. His only recreation was hiking in the woods, where he would touch the leaves of the trees and the wild flowers that grew in abundance in the Tennessee mountains. He would stay in the woods for hours, communing with his Creator, then return to his office for work. Mrs. Winsett said never was there a more sincere person about his religious convictions.
Winsett wrote and composed over 1,000 gospel songs in his lifetime. He died in 1952. (Source: cyberhymnal.org)
[2] Probably Rosedale, Tennessee, through which flows the upper New River.
[3] From Ozark Folksongs by Vance Randolph:
There is a
printed version of this piece in Songs of
the Kingdom (pub. R. E. Winsett, East Chattanooga, Tenn., n.d.), where it
is described as “a true story in song”; the words are anonymous, and the music
credited to F. T. Alexander….Under the names Rosedale Waters and Rosedale
Shores this item is still popular with the so-called Holy Rollers in the
Ozark country.
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