farmer's song. 79 



To wash, to churn, to cook, to sweep, 



By turns her haml she phes, 

 Stops but to rock her babe to sleep, 



Or hush her children's cries. 

 Chorus — We cast, &c. 



'Tis busy life, yet often here 



Th' affections of tlie heart 

 In hohest purity appear, 

 And highest bliss impart. 

 We thankful take what God bestows, 



And learn to feel and know 

 That the best cure for human woes 

 Is industry below. 

 Chorus — We cast, he. 



We strive to culture heart and head, 



Our lives from vice to free, 

 And trust, like well filled grain when dead, 

 Life-giving bread to be. 



To more successful enterprise 



Than we ourselves have known ; 

 Or seed, whence future crops shall rise 

 Superior to our own. 

 Chorus — Our morals grown on well tilled ground, 

 Our habits reared with care, 

 We trust, when here no lon2;er found. 

 To heaven's abundance share. 



