The Old Psalm Tune.
17
I hear my angel mother's voice,—
Those were the words she sung;
I hear my brother's ringing tones,
As once on earth they rung;
And friends that walk in white above
Come round me like a cloud,
And far above those earthly notes
Their singing sounds aloud.
There may be discord as you say;
Those voice poorly ring;
But there's no discord in the strain
Those upper spirits sing.
For they who sing are of the blest,
The calm and glorified,
Whose hours are one eternal rest
On heaven's sweet floating tide.
