 | English melodies |  |
157
TEARS OF GLADNESS.
They tell me he is sure to come,
The lov'd, that more than life I prize;
They tell me he is near his home—
And aching gladness blinds mine eyes:
My heart is full of joy and prayer,
Of earth and heaven—I could embrace,
And kiss with love the very air:—
Oh! shall I ever see his face?
The lov'd, that more than life I prize;
They tell me he is near his home—
And aching gladness blinds mine eyes:
My heart is full of joy and prayer,
Of earth and heaven—I could embrace,
And kiss with love the very air:—
Oh! shall I ever see his face?
'Twas but a word that sent him hence,
A word too coldly, proudly, said;
And I have suffer'd pain intense—
And often wish'd my heart were dead:
But all my prayers have not been vain,—
He comes, and safely, to the shore!
Oh! shall I hear that voice again—
That voice I thought to hear no more!
A word too coldly, proudly, said;
And I have suffer'd pain intense—
And often wish'd my heart were dead:
But all my prayers have not been vain,—
He comes, and safely, to the shore!
Oh! shall I hear that voice again—
That voice I thought to hear no more!
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