The Bars Behind

When I was a boy on grandpa’s farm

     And used to ramble o’er hill and dale,

Happy and careless, as boys will be,

     Nutting or seeking the fox’s trail,

How oft has grandpa reminded me

     In his manner severe but kind:

“My boy when going from one lot to the next

     Just put up the bars behind.”

“When the bars are down the stock can escape

     And damage the fields of grain;

Or mayhap they’ll stray long miles away

     And never be seen again.”

So I took the advice my grandpa gave,

     It fastened itself in my mind;

And we ne’er had trouble upon the old farm

     For we put up the bars behind.

Through life I have thought of the very same thing, –

     To be thorough by far is best;

To put up the bars when temptation is near

     And roam in the fields that are blest.

Or if when one falls on the great highway

     In a moment when weak and blind,

To repent and cast sin in the treacherous swamp

     And put up the bars behind.

Sept. 25, ‘07