100
Sunday up the River.
The church bells are ringing:
Lo, how the river dreameth there!
The thrushes are singing:
Green flames wave lightly everywhere!
The church bells are ringing:
How all the world breathes praise and prayer!
The thrushes are singing:
What Sabbath peace doth trance the air!
V.
That makes one strain and quiver;
And best of all I love and prize
This boating on our river.
I to row and you to steer,
Gay shall be Life's trip, my dear:
You to steer and I to row,
All is bright where'er we go.
We push off from the bank; again
We're free upon the waters;
The happiest of the sons of men,
The fairest of earth's daughters.
