Transcription
They tell me, Father, that tonight
You wed another bride
That you will clasp her in your arms
Where my dear Mother died.
That she will lean her graceful head
Upon your manly breast,
Where she who now lies low in death
In life’s last hours did rest.
They say her name is Mary, too-
The name my Mother bore.
But Father, is she kind and true
Like the one you loved before?
And is her step so soft and light,
Her voice so meek and mild?
And Father, do you think she will love
Your blind and helpless child?
Please, Father, do not bid me come
To meet your lovely bride,
For I could not meet her in the room
Where my dear Mother died.
Her picture’s hanging on the wall.
Her books are lying near,
And there’s the harp her fingers touched
And her vacant chair.
The chair where by her side I knelt
To say my evening prayer.
Please, Father, do not bid me come,
For I could not meet her there.
But when I’ve cried myself to sleep,
As I now often do,
Then softly to my chamber creep,
My new Mama and you.
Then bid her gently press a kiss
upon my throbbing brow,
Just as my own dear Mother would.
Why, Papa, you’re weeping now.
Now let me kneel down by your side
And to my Savior pray
That God’s right hand may guide you back
Through life’s long weary way.
The prayer was murmured, then again
"I’m growing tired", she said.
He gently raised her in his arms
And laid her on the bed.
Then as he turned to leave the room,
One joyful cry was given.
He turned and caught the sweetest smile,
For his blind child was in Heaven.
They laid her by her Mother’s side
And raised a marble fair,
And on it engraved these simple words:
There’ll be no blind ones there.
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