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I love to think of my dear old home That stands upon the hill. Though far away today I roam, Its memories linger still. Oh, home, sweet home, to me so dear, I fane would rest in thee. A loving voice I seem to hear, My mother calling me. I see her now in the old armchair, Her Bible opened wide. How she loved to read those pages fair, And in its truth confide, But now she's gone; dear Mother's gone. Her voice I hear no more, But still I know, some golden morn We'll meet on Heaven's shore. And Father, too, has been called away From troubles here below. Although his form was bent and gray, He always loved us so. But in that brighter, better home On heaven's golden shore, We'll meet someday around the throne To dwell forevermore. That dear old home with its quaint old walls, Its roof now mossed by years, Once more to me it seems to call; I view it now with tears. Oh, but in that brighter, better home On Heaven's golden shore, We'll meet someday around the throne To dwell forevermore. |
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All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas Back to the Song Index Back to the Wolf Collection Homepage ©Copyright 2002 Lyon College |