 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
THE VOICE WITHIN.
You ask the dearest place on earth,
Whose simple joys can never die;
'Tis the holy pale of the happy hearth,
Where love doth light each beaming eye!
With snowy shroud,
Let tempests loud
Around my old tower raise their din;—
What boots the shout
Of storms without,
While voices sweet resound within?
O! dearer sound
For the tempests round,
The voices sweet within!
Whose simple joys can never die;
'Tis the holy pale of the happy hearth,
Where love doth light each beaming eye!
With snowy shroud,
Let tempests loud
Around my old tower raise their din;—
What boots the shout
Of storms without,
While voices sweet resound within?
O! dearer sound
For the tempests round,
The voices sweet within!
I ask not wealth, I ask not power,
But, gracious Heaven, oh grant to me,
That when the storms of fate may lower,
My heart just like my home may be!
When in the gale
Poor Hope's white sail
No haven can for shelter win;
Fate's darkest skies
The heart defies,
Whose still small voice is sweet within!
Oh! heavenly sound!
'Mid the tempest round,
That voice so sweet within!
But, gracious Heaven, oh grant to me,
That when the storms of fate may lower,
My heart just like my home may be!
When in the gale
Poor Hope's white sail
90
Fate's darkest skies
The heart defies,
Whose still small voice is sweet within!
Oh! heavenly sound!
'Mid the tempest round,
That voice so sweet within!
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |