Troubled, wildered and forlorn
Dark benighted, travel-worn
And all heart-broke I heard her say:
-oh my children, does it cry?
Does it hear it's mother sigh? "
Pitying I dropped a tear
But I saw a starbeam near
Who replied:
-i am set to light you the ground
While your mother strives around
Follow now the mother's groans
Little wanderer, hurry home,
Hurry home! "
Little wanderer, hurry home!
Sweet sleep, angel mild,
Hover over me!
Truth, be a lantern to my past!
I prepare my soul for flight,
Prepare my head for death's cold hand
To hurry home
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