HOLD YOUR TONGUE.
SET TO MUSIC AND PUBLISHED.
I've often thought, as through the world I've travelled to and fro,
How many folks about me—above me and below—
Might make this life more happy, if old as well as young
Would bear in mind the maxim which bids them hold their tongue.
Hold your tongue—hold your tongue—you'll ne'er be thought a dunce:
Hold your tongue and think twice before you loose it once:
Hold your tongue—for quiet folks are oft reputed wise:
Hold your tongue, but open wide your ears and your eyes.
How oft we find that words unkind unhappy lives will make;
That loving hearts through idle words will bleed and sometimes break;
What mischief have we scattered all our bosom friends among,
Which might have been avoided had we only held our tongue.
Hold your tongue—hold your tongue: you'll ne'er be thought a dunce:
Hold your tongue and think twice before you loose it once:
Hold your tongue—for quiet folks are oft reputed wise:
Hold your tongue, but open wide your ears and your eyes.
The kindly deeds men do in life their own reward will bring;
But where they come with trumpet-words, their sweetness bears a sting:
The silent giver 's most beloved right-thinking folks among;
So when you do a kindly thing, be sure you hold your tongue.
Hold your tongue—hold your tongue: you'll ne'er be thought a dunce:
Hold your tongue and think twice before you loose it once:
Hold your tongue—for quiet folks are oft reputed wise:
Hold your tongue, but open wide your ears and your eyes.
Yes: hold your tongue, except in life when days of sorrow come;
Then speak to raise a drooping heart, or cheer a darksome home.
If none of these—let silence be the burden of your song:
He holds his own, nor hurts his friend, who learns to hold his tongue.
Hold your tongue—hold your tongue; you'll ne'er be thought a dunce:
Hold your tongue and think twice before you loose it once:
Hold your tongue—for quiet folks are oft reputed wise:
Hold your tongue, but open wide your ears and your eyes.
MY MOTHER'S PORTRAIT.
SET TO MUSIC AND PUBLISHED.
Ah! Well can I remember:
"She'll come no more," they said.
Her last sweet words, they told me,
Were blessings on my head.
Ah! Well can I remember
What sadness all things wore
In childhood, when they told me
"She'll come—she'll come no more!"
Awake or asleep,
Sweet prize above all other;
Close to my heart I'll keep
The likeness of my mother.
Ah! Well can I remember,
Those eyes were filled with tears—
The face that smiled upon me
Seemed sad with many fears:
"Who'll care for thee, my sweet one?"
"Who'll love thee now?" she cried:
Then from her arms they bore me—
'Twas then, they said, she died.
Awake or asleep,
Sweet prize above all other:
Close to my heart I'll keep
The likeness of my mother.