A PILLOW FOR THE WANDERER.
Words and music by J. P. Skelly.
There’s a pillow for the wand’rer who is roaming far away,A haven for his weariness, a balm for his dismay;A heart whereon to lay his head, to find a couch of rest,A mother waiting patiently, with welcome, pure and blest,Though he has slighted long her love, that love will e’er forgive,And still receive him in her arms as long as he shall live,The mother-heart is keeping yet, with hope from day to day,A pillow for the wanderer, whose feet have gone astray.Chorus.—There’s a light forever shining,Within the window-pane,To guide the weary prodigal,To home and love again,A tender welcome waits him,When at the door he’ll stand,And a pillow for the wanderer,Smoothed by a mother’s hand!There is sunshine for the wanderer whom wildest storms assail,A little nook of quietness where never sweeps the gale;The world with all its fading joys can offer no repose,Like that which now is waiting him, to bless him till life’s close,A loving one has sighed for him, and watched for his return,The light of hope within her breast has never ceased to burn.What though the outer world condemn? a gentle hand has spreadA pillow for the wanderer to rest his weary head.—Chorus.
There’s a pillow for the wand’rer who is roaming far away,A haven for his weariness, a balm for his dismay;A heart whereon to lay his head, to find a couch of rest,A mother waiting patiently, with welcome, pure and blest,Though he has slighted long her love, that love will e’er forgive,And still receive him in her arms as long as he shall live,The mother-heart is keeping yet, with hope from day to day,A pillow for the wanderer, whose feet have gone astray.Chorus.—There’s a light forever shining,Within the window-pane,To guide the weary prodigal,To home and love again,A tender welcome waits him,When at the door he’ll stand,And a pillow for the wanderer,Smoothed by a mother’s hand!There is sunshine for the wanderer whom wildest storms assail,A little nook of quietness where never sweeps the gale;The world with all its fading joys can offer no repose,Like that which now is waiting him, to bless him till life’s close,A loving one has sighed for him, and watched for his return,The light of hope within her breast has never ceased to burn.What though the outer world condemn? a gentle hand has spreadA pillow for the wanderer to rest his weary head.—Chorus.
There’s a pillow for the wand’rer who is roaming far away,A haven for his weariness, a balm for his dismay;A heart whereon to lay his head, to find a couch of rest,A mother waiting patiently, with welcome, pure and blest,Though he has slighted long her love, that love will e’er forgive,And still receive him in her arms as long as he shall live,The mother-heart is keeping yet, with hope from day to day,A pillow for the wanderer, whose feet have gone astray.
There’s a pillow for the wand’rer who is roaming far away,
A haven for his weariness, a balm for his dismay;
A heart whereon to lay his head, to find a couch of rest,
A mother waiting patiently, with welcome, pure and blest,
Though he has slighted long her love, that love will e’er forgive,
And still receive him in her arms as long as he shall live,
The mother-heart is keeping yet, with hope from day to day,
A pillow for the wanderer, whose feet have gone astray.
Chorus.—There’s a light forever shining,Within the window-pane,To guide the weary prodigal,To home and love again,A tender welcome waits him,When at the door he’ll stand,And a pillow for the wanderer,Smoothed by a mother’s hand!
Chorus.—There’s a light forever shining,
Within the window-pane,
To guide the weary prodigal,
To home and love again,
A tender welcome waits him,
When at the door he’ll stand,
And a pillow for the wanderer,
Smoothed by a mother’s hand!
There is sunshine for the wanderer whom wildest storms assail,A little nook of quietness where never sweeps the gale;The world with all its fading joys can offer no repose,Like that which now is waiting him, to bless him till life’s close,A loving one has sighed for him, and watched for his return,The light of hope within her breast has never ceased to burn.What though the outer world condemn? a gentle hand has spreadA pillow for the wanderer to rest his weary head.—Chorus.
There is sunshine for the wanderer whom wildest storms assail,
A little nook of quietness where never sweeps the gale;
The world with all its fading joys can offer no repose,
Like that which now is waiting him, to bless him till life’s close,
A loving one has sighed for him, and watched for his return,
The light of hope within her breast has never ceased to burn.
What though the outer world condemn? a gentle hand has spread
A pillow for the wanderer to rest his weary head.—Chorus.
Copyright, 1891, byFrank Tousey. The complete words and music of this song will be sent by mail for 10 cents. Address,Frank Tousey, Publisher, 34 and 36 North Moore Street, New York. Catalogues sent free upon application.
Copyright, 1891, byFrank Tousey. The complete words and music of this song will be sent by mail for 10 cents. Address,Frank Tousey, Publisher, 34 and 36 North Moore Street, New York. Catalogues sent free upon application.