The Mourning Dove.
One day while in a lonesome grove
Sat over my head a little dove,
For its last mate began to coo
Which made me think of my mate, too.
Ah, little dove, you are not alone ,
For I, like you, can onle mourn.
I, once, like you, did have a mate,
But now like you, I am desolate.
Consumption seized my love severe,
And preyed on her for one long year,
Till death came at the break of day,
And my poor Mary he did slay.
Her blooming cheeks and sparkling eye
Like roses they did wilt and die.
The arms that once embraced me round
Lie mouldering in the cold ground.
But death, grim death, did not stop there.
I had one child to me most dear.
He like a vulture came again
And took from me my little Jane.
But bless the Lord, his word is given
Declaring babes are heirs of Heaven.
Then ceased my heart to mourn for Jane
Since my small loss is her great gain.
I have a hope that cheers my breast,
To think my love has gone to rest.
For while her dying tongue could move
She praised the Lord for His redeeming lobe.
Shout on, ye heavenly powers above,
While I this lonesome desert roam.
My Master’s work will soon be done
And then I’ll join you in your song.