2 Cuckoo, cuckoo, no other note
She sings from day to day;
But I, though a poor cottage girl,
Can work, and read, and pray.
3 And whilst in knowledge I rejoice,
Which heavenly truth displays,
Oh! let me still employ my voice
In my Redeemer's praise.
SHEEPFOLD.
1 The sheep were in the fold at night,
And now a new-born lamb
Totters and trembles in the light,
Or bleats beside its dam.
2 How anxiously the mother tries,
With every tender care,
To screen it from inclement skies,
And the cold morning air!
3 The hailstorm of the east is fled,
She seems with joy to swell,
Whilst ever as she bends her head,
I hear the tinkling bell.
4 So while for me a mother's prayer
Ascends to heaven above,
May I repay her tender care
With gratitude and love!