Transcription:
Verses found in letter of John Boyes, dated Jan. 22, 1877 O, how I love the sawmill That stands beside the stream; I love
to hear its rattling wheel, That shudders 'neath the beam. O, how I love to hear it roar, It drowns the noisy air; It
roars aloud like thunder And I seek for shelter there. The trees stand all around me When I am in the mill; O, how I
love to see those trees That stand upon the hill. The little stream that turns the wheel That works the saw up and down,
That rips the logs asunder, That shelters us around. 'Twas God that made the sawmill That stands beside the stream, I
love to go when I die to him, And in his kingdom reign. JOHN BOYES 211