To leave my dear friends, and with neighbors to part,
And go from my home it affects not my heart
Like thoughts of absenting myself for a day
From that bless’d retreat where I’ve chosen to pray.

Dear bow’r, where the pine and the poplar have spread,
And wove with the branches a roof o’er my head;
How oft have I knelt on the evergreen there,
And poured out my soul to my Savior in prayer.

The early shrill notes of the loved nightingale
That dwelt in my bow’r I observed as my bell,
To call me to duty, while birds of the air
Sang anthems of praise as I went to my prayer.

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