MY HAIR IS SILVERED O'ER.
My hair is silvered o'er the brow, And fled the beauty of the face, Where once did blushing roses grow. Forever a settled sadness trace.
Oft memory lingers round the past, When happy-hearted, light, and free, Believing joy and love could last, When thoughtless in my girlish glee.
Oh, ask me not to smile again, While passing through this life of woe: Remember few could bear the pain I've struggled long and hard, to do.
In dreary solitude I wander, Bereft of every hope in life Beyond the wish to fling asunder AH earthly ties and end the strife.
Amid the burning deeds of wrong I fly for rest, my God, to thee,—To whom my hope and faith belong Till death shall set my spirit free.