One day while searching Google

In my research I use google quite often. I type in "McCurdy" with other keywords, since its not a common name. On General Conference Weekend of this past October I had listened to quite a few talks. A good number of the talks were about the early leaders of our church. This would be during the same time period that Converse Lilly McCurdy was a minister for the Methodist Church in the New England area 1830's and 40's. I had been doing most of my research on Converse at this time and my thoughts were all about him and I pondered on what kind of a person he must of been. I knew in my heart, and from what I had heard and read, that he must of been a very good person, a far better person than I . In a letter from Hannah Kinsley to my great Grandfather Charles W. McCurdy her brother, she wrote "no finer person ever lived than our Father." After conference I started to do some research on the net. I decided to do some of my normal searches on Google, but this time the results were anything but normal. In my "search results" came up a book called "Sunday School and Band of Hope Speaker" By Rev. C L McCurdy published in Boston in 1870. A feeling of excitement rushed through me and I literally screamed as I began to read about the book. The site was eBay, but everything was in a foreign language so it was hard to know exactly what was going on. To make a long story short, the book had already been sold, but it is now in my possession. This book is truly of great worth to me. My Great Grandfather Charles W. McCurdy had moved out west and we knew little about Converse. As far as I know nothing like a bible or any heirloom was ever handed down to us. This book has given me insight as to the kind of person my Great Great Grandfather was . Almost all the writings in the book are for the "Band of Hope" and are about the ill effects of Alcohol, but thankfully and maybe not just by chance, he did put in a few of his poems that give us some clues about our Grandfather Converse Lilly McCurdy. Malachi 4:6

I include two of those poems

The Homes Of The Departed

If you bright stars which gem the night,

Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,

Where kindred spirits re-unite,

Whom death has torn asunder here,

How sweet it were at once to die,

And leave this blighted orb afar,

Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky,

And soar away from star to star.

But, oh! how dark, how drear, how lone

Would seem the brightest world of bliss,

If, wandering through each radiant zone,

We failed to find the loved of this!

If there no more the ties should twine,

Which death's cold hand alone can sever,

Ah! then these stars in mockery shine,

More hateful as they shine for ever!

It cannot be --- each hope and fear

That lights the eye and clouds the brow,

Proclaims there is a happier sphere

Than this bleak world that holds us now;

There is a voice which sorrow hears,

When heaviest weighs life's galling chain;

'Tis Heaven that Whispers, "Dry thy tears;

The pure in heart shall meet again!"

Recitation

'Twas summers eve. The blue arched heavens above were beaming with soft smiles, and all was quietude and peace. The bright sun had just withdrawn his golden beams, tinging the West with flowing beauty. And busy man, and all earth, with its perplexities, slept. Sweet melody was floating on the evening breeze; the song of the nightingale, the distant waterfall, and the low murmuring of the forest trees, mingled their notes with inexpressible sweetness. How the heart thrills at such an hour , with love to its Creator! There is some invisible power beyond the strength of language to express, that stirs every spring within the soul. It seems that earth and sky blend all their loveliness, to fill the heart almost with heaven's hallowed bliss. "Such was the night so lovely, still, serene, when to a little mound of earth, seen by none but God's all seeing eye," I bent my steps. Dearest spot on earth! 'neath this cold clod slumbers all that bound me to this vale of sadness. Yes, she is gone! Those eyes that once beamed so brightly with affection's glance, are now closed! Those hands that oft have warmly pressed a friend's, are now clasped in one long, cold embrace, and the music of her lips is silent; she sleeps her long last sleep. Oh! what has death wrought? A mother, too!--- dearest name on earth. But the loveliest in this world of sadness are destined to decay the first. E'en now my brow burns with my mother's kiss, and I can hear "her voice scarce uttered, soft as zephyr's sighs," ascending up to Heaven, in ardent, earnest prayer for me. Oh! are not these bright visions? But in vanishing they leave a sting. But can I wish her to return from those plains of paradise, to exchange an angel's harp for aught that's here below? Ah, no! Farewell, thou blest and beautiful; sing on those heavenly anthems. I know 'tis well with thee. Farewell!