O that I had wings like a dove,
For, then, would I soon be at rest;
I’d fly to the mansions above;
The home of the pure and the blest;
The place where no sorrow or tears
Can ever my pleasures destroy;
But where through eternity’s years,
I’ll drink from an ocean of Joy!
2 The clouds that now hang o’er my soul,
Make dark all the pathway of life;