And mingled with their flow.
“Many a shout from a merry troop
Of children at their play,
And gladsome tone of mirth and joy
Have I borne in my flight away;
And odors of heaven my wings have caught
Where the holy knelt to pray.
“Do thou His bidding—question not,
Nor cower like frighted dove,
There’s a home where the storm-winds never sweep,