84 Old Bays on the Farm 



Yes, all along our life's pathway 

 Sin lurks like stones beneath the sod 

 To try our faith. Ah, oft we stray 

 Far from the way that leads to God. 



So sang Old Jones and so do we 

 Go singing o'er life's pleasant meadows, 

 While going's good, we, same as he, 

 Look skyward, far above the shadows. 



But when our painful trials come. 

 Like Jones, we fall, and raise a rumpus, 

 And roar and rave and make things hum 

 Whenever life's plough handles thump us. 



