Wife of my Bosom.Air—Kathleen Mavourneen.Wife of my bosom, the midnight hangs o’er me,And shadow and silence encompass our camp;Oh, dark is my heart, like the darkness before me,Wife of my bosom, while lonely I tramp;’Tis not that I falter, or fear the red morrow,When true men give battle to rebels forsworn,But the heart of each soldier may have its own sorrow,And ’tis thinking of thee, love, makes mine so forlorn.Wife of my bosom, the night-hours are lonely,And lonesome my heart, as I tread my dark round;But through all the dim watches I’ve thought of thee only,Wife of my bosom, with yearning profound.Now the day breaks, and the drums call to battle,While cannon’s deep thunder announces the morn;Full gladly I welcome the din and the rattle,’Tis only for thee, wife, my heart is forlorn.Wife of my bosom, in God’s blessed keepingOur lives are still mingled, though parted are we;Above us He watcheth, with mercies unsleeping,Wife of my bosom, o’er thee and o’er me.I dare the wild conflict, where lives must be rended,But faith in my bosom now brightens with morn;By thy prayers in the past I have still been defended,And He whom we trust will not leave thee forlorn.
Air—Kathleen Mavourneen.
Wife of my bosom, the midnight hangs o’er me,And shadow and silence encompass our camp;Oh, dark is my heart, like the darkness before me,Wife of my bosom, while lonely I tramp;’Tis not that I falter, or fear the red morrow,When true men give battle to rebels forsworn,But the heart of each soldier may have its own sorrow,And ’tis thinking of thee, love, makes mine so forlorn.Wife of my bosom, the night-hours are lonely,And lonesome my heart, as I tread my dark round;But through all the dim watches I’ve thought of thee only,Wife of my bosom, with yearning profound.Now the day breaks, and the drums call to battle,While cannon’s deep thunder announces the morn;Full gladly I welcome the din and the rattle,’Tis only for thee, wife, my heart is forlorn.Wife of my bosom, in God’s blessed keepingOur lives are still mingled, though parted are we;Above us He watcheth, with mercies unsleeping,Wife of my bosom, o’er thee and o’er me.I dare the wild conflict, where lives must be rended,But faith in my bosom now brightens with morn;By thy prayers in the past I have still been defended,And He whom we trust will not leave thee forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, the midnight hangs o’er me,And shadow and silence encompass our camp;Oh, dark is my heart, like the darkness before me,Wife of my bosom, while lonely I tramp;’Tis not that I falter, or fear the red morrow,When true men give battle to rebels forsworn,But the heart of each soldier may have its own sorrow,And ’tis thinking of thee, love, makes mine so forlorn.Wife of my bosom, the night-hours are lonely,And lonesome my heart, as I tread my dark round;But through all the dim watches I’ve thought of thee only,Wife of my bosom, with yearning profound.Now the day breaks, and the drums call to battle,While cannon’s deep thunder announces the morn;Full gladly I welcome the din and the rattle,’Tis only for thee, wife, my heart is forlorn.Wife of my bosom, in God’s blessed keepingOur lives are still mingled, though parted are we;Above us He watcheth, with mercies unsleeping,Wife of my bosom, o’er thee and o’er me.I dare the wild conflict, where lives must be rended,But faith in my bosom now brightens with morn;By thy prayers in the past I have still been defended,And He whom we trust will not leave thee forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, the midnight hangs o’er me,And shadow and silence encompass our camp;Oh, dark is my heart, like the darkness before me,Wife of my bosom, while lonely I tramp;’Tis not that I falter, or fear the red morrow,When true men give battle to rebels forsworn,But the heart of each soldier may have its own sorrow,And ’tis thinking of thee, love, makes mine so forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, the midnight hangs o’er me,
And shadow and silence encompass our camp;
Oh, dark is my heart, like the darkness before me,
Wife of my bosom, while lonely I tramp;
’Tis not that I falter, or fear the red morrow,
When true men give battle to rebels forsworn,
But the heart of each soldier may have its own sorrow,
And ’tis thinking of thee, love, makes mine so forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, the night-hours are lonely,And lonesome my heart, as I tread my dark round;But through all the dim watches I’ve thought of thee only,Wife of my bosom, with yearning profound.Now the day breaks, and the drums call to battle,While cannon’s deep thunder announces the morn;Full gladly I welcome the din and the rattle,’Tis only for thee, wife, my heart is forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, the night-hours are lonely,
And lonesome my heart, as I tread my dark round;
But through all the dim watches I’ve thought of thee only,
Wife of my bosom, with yearning profound.
Now the day breaks, and the drums call to battle,
While cannon’s deep thunder announces the morn;
Full gladly I welcome the din and the rattle,
’Tis only for thee, wife, my heart is forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, in God’s blessed keepingOur lives are still mingled, though parted are we;Above us He watcheth, with mercies unsleeping,Wife of my bosom, o’er thee and o’er me.I dare the wild conflict, where lives must be rended,But faith in my bosom now brightens with morn;By thy prayers in the past I have still been defended,And He whom we trust will not leave thee forlorn.
Wife of my bosom, in God’s blessed keeping
Our lives are still mingled, though parted are we;
Above us He watcheth, with mercies unsleeping,
Wife of my bosom, o’er thee and o’er me.
I dare the wild conflict, where lives must be rended,
But faith in my bosom now brightens with morn;
By thy prayers in the past I have still been defended,
And He whom we trust will not leave thee forlorn.