SacredSongs
#1197Heaven

Hymn 1197: As I wandered round the homestead

As I wandered round the homestead, Many a dear familiar spot Brought within my recollection Scenes I'd seemingly forgot; There, the orchard — meadow, yonder — Here, the deep, old-fashioned well, With its old moss-covered bucket, Sent a thrill no tongue can tell.

2. Though the house was held by strangers, All remained the same within; Just as when a child I rambled Up and down, and out and in ; To the garret dark ascending — Once a source of childish dread — Peering through the misty cobwebs, Lo ! I saw my cradle bed.

3. Quick I drew it from the rubbish Covered o'er with dust so long : When, behold, I heard in fancy Strains of one familiar song, Often sung by my dear mother To me in that cradle bed : " Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber ! Holy angels guard thy bed ! "

4. While I listen to the music Stealing on in gentle strain, I am carried back to childhood — I am now a child again : 'Tis the hour of my retiring, At the dusky eventide ; Near my cradle bed I'm kneeling, As of yore, by mother's side.

5. Hands are on my head so loving, As they were in childhood's days; I, with weary tones, am trying To repeat the words she says ; 'Tis a prayer in language simple As a mother's lips can frame : " Father, Thou who art in heaven, Hallowed, ever, be Thy name."

6. Prayer is over : to my pillow With a " good-night " kiss I creep, Scarcely waking while I whisper, " Now I lay me down to sleep." Then my mother, o'er me bending, Prays in earnest words, but mild : " Hear my prayer, O heavenly Father, Bless, oh bless, my precious child ! "

7. Yet I am but only dreaming : Ne'er I'll be a child again ; Many years has that dear mother In the quiet graveyard lain ; But her blessed angel spirit Daily hovers o'er my head, Calling me from earth to heaven, Even from my cradle bed.