Words softly spoken
No guile ever bore;
Peaches ne'er harbour
A worm at the core;
And the ground never slipp'd
Under high-reaching man;
Oh! believe me, believe me,
Believe if you can!
Seas undeceitful,
Calm smiling at morn,
Wreck not ere midnight
The sailor forlorn.
And gold makes a bridge
Every evil to span;
Oh! believe me, believe me,
Believe if you can.
OH, THE HAPPY TIME DEPARTED!
Air by Sir H. R. Bishop.
Oh, the happy time departed!
In its smile the world was fair;
We believed in all men's goodness;
Joy and hope were gems to wear;
Angel visitants were with us,
There was music in the air.
Oh, the happy time departed!
Change came o'er it all too soon;
In a cold and drear November
Died the leafy wealth of June;
Winter kill'd our summer roses;
Discord marr'd a heavenly tune.
Let them pass—the days departed—
What befell may ne'er befall;
Why should we with vain lamenting
Seek a shadow to recall?
Great the sorrows we have suffer'd—
Hope is greater than them all.