Oh! many a summer ago,
Still chanting the hymn when the eve closes in,
Though they echo from heaven, I know;
And I sit in the pew where they sat by my side,
And as back in the shadows I lean,
I hear the low prayers that echoed and died
In the Old Wooden Church on the Green.
I will weep when it falls, I will smile while it stands,
As winter on winter goes by,
Protected by naught but invisible hands,