The Gray Hairs of My Mother.
The gray hairs of my mother, this tress, this tress recalls them now;
Again I see them cluster In beauty, in beauty 'round her brow-
Oh! tender are the mem'ries that wake from out the past;
I live again life's morning, too beautiful, too beautiful to last.
Oh! the gray hairs of my mother, this tress, this tress recalls them now:
Again I see them cluster in beauty, in beauty 'round her brow.
Once more I kneel, at twilight, in childhood's simple earnest prayer;
Once more I see the homestead, And all, and all the blessings there;
Oh! lovely tress of silver, whatever cares may be.
My heart, in all its trials, is nearer heaven, is nearer heaven for thee- Chorus.