Mother, they say the stars are bright,
And the broad heav'ns are blue,
I dream of them by day, by night,
And think them all like you,
I cannot touch the distant skies,
The stars ne'er speak to me;
Yet their sweet images arise
And blend with thoughts of Thee.
I know not why, but often think
Of thee, fair land of bliss;
And when I hear the voice I dream
That heav'n is like to this.
When my sad heart to thine is pressed,
My follies all forgiv'n
Sweet pleasures warm my beating breast,
And this, I say, is heav'n.
O mother, will the God above
Forgive my faults like thee?
Will He bestow such care and love
On a blind girl like me?
Dear mother, leave me not alone,
Go with me when I die;
Lead the blind daughter to the throne
And stay in yonder sky.