O the old house at home

Full Text

1 O the old house at home where my forefathers dwelt;
Where a child at the feet of my mother I knelt;
Where she taught me the pray’r, where she read me the page,
Which in infancy lisps is the solace of age,
My heart ‘mid all changes, where’er I may roam,
Never loses its love for the old house at home;
For ‘twas there at the feet of my mother,
In the old house at home where me forefathers dwelt.

O the old house at home, O the old house at home,
My heart never changes for the old house at home;
O the old house at home, O the old house at home,
My heart never changes for the old house at home.

2 It was not for its splendor that dwelling was dear;
It was not that the gay and the noble were near;
O’er the porch the wild rose and the ivy entwined,
And the jessamine fragrantly waved in the wind,
But dearer to me than proud turret or dome,
Is the home of my father, the old house at home;
For ‘twas there at the feet of my mother,
In the old house at home where me forefathers dwelt.

O the old house at home, O the old house at home,
My heart never changes for the old house at home;
O the old house at home, O the old house at home,
My heart never changes for the old house at home.

3 But the old house no more is a dwelling for me;
The home of the stranger henceforth it must be;
And I never shall room in its rooms as a guest,
Never roam thro’ the fields that my father possessed,
But still in my dreams where’er I may roam,
Sweet visions will come of the old house at home;
For ‘twas there at the feet of my mother,
In the old house at home where me forefathers dwelt.

O the old house at home, O the old house at home,
My heart never changes for the old house at home;
O the old house at home, O the old house at home,
My heart never changes for the old house at home.

4 There’s the “New House” for me that is not made with hands;
‘Tis a mansion in heaven, eternal it stands,
By the river of life, where the streets are of gold,
And the gates are of pearl, it can never be sold,
And soon I shall go to the land of the blest,
To meet with mother and the loved ones at rest;
And ‘tis there ‘round a throne pearly white we shall sing,
In that “New House” at “Home,” ‘tis the home of a King!

O the new house at home, O the new house at home,
My soul now is longing for the new house at home;
O the new house at home, O the new house at home,
My soul now is longing for the new house at home.

Source: Triumphant Songs No.2 #103

Author: Frank L. Bristow

Born: April 15, 1845, Jack­son­ville, Il­li­nois. Died: November 11, 1914, Cov­ing­ton, Ken­tucky. Buried: Lin­den Grove Cem­e­te­ry, Cov­ing­ton, Ken­tucky. Son of min­is­ter Ben­ja­min Frank­lin Bris­tow, Frank was a well known com­pos­er and teach­er of pop­u­lar and re­li­gious mu­sic. --www.hymntime.com/tch/ Go to person page >

Text Information

First Line: O the old house at home
Author: Frank L. Bristow

Timeline

Instances

Instances (1 - 5 of 5)Text InfoTune InfoTextScoreFlexScoreAudioPage Scan
Bible School Songs #d110
Jewel Songs: suitable for all kinds of religious services #62Page Scan
Lasting Hymns: a collection of songs specially designed for every department of worship and suitable for all services of the churches #75Page Scan
Life and Light No.2 #d79
Triumphant Songs No.2 #103TextAudioPage Scan



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