SONG OF THE GHOST OF CRAZY BET.
The clouds have all melted away,
That hung o'er my morning of life;
The darkness has turned into day,
And peace has succeeded to strife.
That hung o'er my morning of life;
The darkness has turned into day,
And peace has succeeded to strife.
The trumpet has sounded to me,
Saying, Time shall not be any more:
The face of the Highest I see;
And with angels, I bow and adore.
Saying, Time shall not be any more:
The face of the Highest I see;
And with angels, I bow and adore.
But, leaving the mansions above,
Through the mists of this beautiful hill,
I look on the valley I love,
And a blessing implore for it still.
Through the mists of this beautiful hill,
I look on the valley I love,
And a blessing implore for it still.
Peace be in that dwelling where brethren meet;
Where the houseless are sheltered, the hungry are fed;
Where heart can meet heart, in communion sweet;
Where the maniac often has rested her head.
Where the houseless are sheltered, the hungry are fed;
Where heart can meet heart, in communion sweet;
Where the maniac often has rested her head.
May the wind whisper peace, as it sighs
Through the trees where their fathers have been,
And murmur, that still, from the skies,
They smile on the heavenly scene.
Through the trees where their fathers have been,
And murmur, that still, from the skies,
They smile on the heavenly scene.
