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When life's summer work is o'er—
Garnered all the golden sheaves,
And we weave a glorious crown
Out of autumn's sunset leaves.
Mong the happy scenes of Heaven
Where there is no thought of pain;
We shall see the bright young face,
We shall greet our friend again.
Garnered all the golden sheaves,
And we weave a glorious crown
Out of autumn's sunset leaves.
Mong the happy scenes of Heaven
Where there is no thought of pain;
We shall see the bright young face,
We shall greet our friend again.
Waiting For The Morning.
We are waiting for the morning,
Stranded on a rocky shore,
Though we catch no gleam of brightness,
And the billows wildly roar;
We are waiting for the morning
When its light at last appears,
We can make our way in safety,
While our bark the danger clears.
Stranded on a rocky shore,
Though we catch no gleam of brightness,
And the billows wildly roar;
We are waiting for the morning
When its light at last appears,
We can make our way in safety,
While our bark the danger clears.
