The farmer - Webb, George J.

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"Although the text is somewhat devotional in nature, this song was not specifically sacred nor church music."

◈ Genre / Form Partsongs

♬ Besetzung → SATB ¶ Sprache → Englisch

Stimmen 4

Instrumente A cappella

Seiten 8

CPDL Nr. 79144

Bearbeiter David Anderson

Veröffentlicht 2024-02-16

Lizenz Personal

Schlagwörter

Pages_using_DynamicPageList3_parser_function Posted_in_February_2024 More_than_90_days_old More_than_30_days_old CPDL_791xy

¶Liedtext

When winds blow pure and freely, And blossoms load the air, And green trees wave their branches, And all around looks fair,– I ply my daily labor, And work ’till night has come, And then return contented, To take my rest at home. How sweet unto the weary Is such unvexed repose, When evening’s lengthened shadows Around our cottage close: With quiet in our bosoms, We sit in twilight shades, And watch the crimson radiance As from the west it fades. And then how fresh the slumber, Which falls upon our eyes; When night’s clear dews are falling, And stars are in the skies. No feverish dreams affright us, Or make us start and weep; But trusting in God’s mercy, We gently sink to sleep. And then, ere morning blushes Along the eastern skies, We bless the care that watched us, And, nerved to labor, rise. We see the daystar fading, We see the vapors glide Along the mighty valleys, And up the mountain’s side. Again, our hardy sinews Are bent to manly toil; We mow the tall grass waving, Or plough the mellow soil. And ever when our labors By day are past and done, We sit before our cottage, And watch the setting sun.

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