Mrs. Lofty keeps a carriage,
So do I;
She has dappled grays to draw it,
None have I.
She's no prouder of her coachman
Than am I
With my blue-eyed laughing baby
Trundling by.
I hide his face, lest she should see
The cherub boy and envy me.
Her fine husband has white fingers,
Mine has not;
He can give his bride a palace,
Mine a cot.
Hers comes home beneath the starlight,
Ne'er cares she;
Mine comes in the purple twilight,
Kisses me,
And prays that He who turns life's sands
Will hold his loved ones in his hands.
Mrs. Lofty has her jewels,
So have I;
She wears hers upon her bosom,
Inside I.
She will leave hers at Death's portals,
By and by;
I shall bear the treasures with me
When I die--
For I have love, and she has gold;
She counts her wealth, mine can't be told.
She has those who love her station,
None have I,
But I've one true heart beside me;
Glad am I;
I'd not change it for a kingdom,
No, not I;
God will weigh it in a balance,
By and by;
And then the difference he'll define
'Twixt Mrs. Lofty's wealth and mine.
So long as life's hope-sparkle glows, 'tis good;
When death delivers from life's woes, 'tis good.
Oh praise the Lord who makes all good, and will;
Whether he life or death bestows, 'tis good.