1 Dear mother, I ask for my father in vain;
Has he sought some far country his health to regain?
Has he left our cold climate of frost and of snow,
For some warm sunny land, where the soft breezes blow?
2 "Yes, yes, gentle boy, thy loved father has gone
To a climate where sorrow and pain are unknown;
His spirit is strengthen'd, his frame is at rest,
There is health, there is peace in the land of the blest."
3 "Is that land, my dear mother, more lovely than ours,
Are the rivers more clear, more blooming the flowers,
Does summer shine over it all the year long,
Is it cheer'd by the glad sounds of music and song?"
4 "Yes, the flow'rs are despoil'd not by winter or night,
The well-springs of life are exhaustless and bright,
And by exquisite voices sweet hymns are address'd
To the Lord who reigns over the land of the blest."
5 "How I long to partake of such meetings of bliss--
That land must be surely more happy than this;
On you, my kind mother, the journey depends,
Let us go to my father, his kindred and friends."
6 "Not on me, love; I trust that I may reach that bright clime,
But in patience I stay till the Lord's chosen time,
And must strive, while awaiting his gracious behest,
To guide thy young steps to the land of the blest.
7 "Thou must toil through a world full of dangers, my boy,
Thy peace it may blight, and thy virtue destroy;
Nor wilt thou, alas! be withheld from its snares
By a father's kind counsels, a father's fond prayers.
8 "Yet fear not--the God, whose direction you crave,
Is mighty to strengthen, to shield, and to save,
And his hand may yet lead thee, a glorified guest,
To the home of thy father, the land of the blest.