We grow where none but God,
Life's Gardener,
Dwell not with me,
For you'll never see
Give me that old time religion
Tis the old time religion,
Oh! never will I leave my love,
My captive soul would sigh to stray,
Down to the sacred wave,
The Lord of life was led;
Together first they plan a nest,
And where and how to build it best,
Daily, daily, sing the praises
Of the city God hath made;
WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love;
He died of nothing--by mere chance was slain.
The earth rolls on through empty space, its journey's never done;
It's entered for a starry race throughout the kingdom come.
Here is the peaceful postcard paradise A considerate sun slaves overtime
I would not live always; I ask not to stay,
Where I must bear the burden and heat of the day:
HO, a song by the fire!
(Pass the pipes, fill the bowl!)
Lonesome tears sad and blue
I shed lonesome tears for you
Now hearken, ye who take delight
In boasting of your worth!
I.
Flutt'ring spread thy purple Pinions,
O world beneath the mother's wing,
Secure from harm,
When others saw thee gay and vain,
And saw my weakness too,—
Over near a chock-and-log hut,
Down by the river-side,
He wore an old blue shirt the night that first we met,
An old and tattered cabbage-tree concealed his locks of jet;
Drink the nectar of pure Nada, O Mind.
A wind-bound exile far from home,
While standing near th' unfathomed main,
Weel, wha's in the bouroch,
And what is your cheer?
I' f'sait l' lit qu'i' défaisait pas,
Mais l'soir, quand je r'tirais mon bas,
DEEP, fiery clouds o'ercast the sky,
Dead stillness reigns in air,
O leaf, against the twilight seen,
Move not; for at thy side
Auld Watty of Kebbuckston brae,
With lear and reading of books auld-farren,--
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
They're bonny fish and halesome farin';
When first I came to Sydney Cove
And up and down the streets did rove,
What good fortune is this? You are my refuge. Who is your equal in the three worlds?
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