A door through which man passes free,
To work God’s will.
Carpenter.—
Come, come, you waste
Your father’s time, my son! Make haste,
Reuben—we’ve got the lintel placed;
Bring me the nails.
Reuben. (As he brings the nails and drives them in. Sings)
Oh, what is yon tree that stands so high
And stretches its arms in sorrow?