find.

1

How sweet to stray abroad, at eve,

My trusty friend, with thee,

The toil of care and earth to eave,

And commune full and free. How sweet to stray abroad, at eve,

My trusty friend, with thee, The toil and care of earth to leave, And commune full and free.

2

With one true friend to share his lot,
What mortal can repine?

Come want, come woe, I murmur not,
With this dear hand in mine.
What though these hands return to dust,
Their beating hearts decay?
That love which warmed our spirits first,
Will live in endless day.

2

Who hath a happier smile than she

Who waits in yonder sward,

Beneath the spreading walnut tree,

The coming of her lord;

Who makes his hearth gleam fresh and bright, When dany toil is done,

And sheds around a holier light,

As swiftly fades the sun;

2 Who, open hand and hearted, meets

The cheerless, fainting poor,

And kindly looks on all she greets,
That pass her lonely door?

Then give me back my native hills,
Rough, rugged, though they be;
No other clime, no other land,
Is half so dear to me.
Affection's ties around my home,
Like ivy tendrils twine:
My love, my blessings, and my pray'rs
My native hills, are thine

'Tis she, the merry farmer's wife,
Who sits his chair beside,
And tells him, what a happy life
It is to be his bride.

3 And when misfortune's cares arise,
And earthly hopes grow dim,
She'll point him upward to the skies,
And place her trust in Him,

Who, rich in love, with goodness rife,
Rules over land and sea :-

Then blessings on the farmer's wife,
Wherever she may be!