home.
There is a joy in home,
Where'er affections dwell,
And sweetest words of sympathy
Awake the inward spell—
Where not a trace of selfishness
Nor angry words intrude,
Where life seems peace and joyousness,
Earth beautiful and good.
Where'er affections dwell,
And sweetest words of sympathy
Awake the inward spell—
Where not a trace of selfishness
Nor angry words intrude,
Where life seems peace and joyousness,
Earth beautiful and good.
These are the joys of home,
To those who would embrace
A something of more lasting worth
Than in the world we trace;—
A world where pleasure weaves with woe
A wreath of thorny flowers,
And in whose gayest scenes of mirth
There lurk embittered hours.
To those who would embrace
A something of more lasting worth
Than in the world we trace;—
A world where pleasure weaves with woe
A wreath of thorny flowers,
And in whose gayest scenes of mirth
There lurk embittered hours.
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