72
Poems.
The matron on the sanded floor,
Then placed her little stand,
And with a meek eyed spirit bore
The Bible in her hand;
Her husband read in accents fair,
From the inspired page;
And then breathed forth the fervent prayer,
For all, in "every age."
Then placed her little stand,
And with a meek eyed spirit bore
The Bible in her hand;
Her husband read in accents fair,
From the inspired page;
And then breathed forth the fervent prayer,
For all, in "every age."
Before his father's knees then knelt
In prayer, their little boy;
A parent's love was all he felt,
'T was all his earthly joy.
Thus lived the woodman and his wife,
Within their humble cot;
And truly theirs was a happy life,
Contentment marked their lot.
In prayer, their little boy;
A parent's love was all he felt,
'T was all his earthly joy.
Thus lived the woodman and his wife,
Within their humble cot;
And truly theirs was a happy life,
Contentment marked their lot.
THERE 'S NOT A FLOWER.
There 's not a flower that ever grew
On mountain or in vale,
And not a stream that meets our view,
In woodland, field or dale,
On mountain or in vale,
And not a stream that meets our view,
In woodland, field or dale,
