Blessing For Sunday
If Ever I’m A Money’d Man, I Mean, Please God, To Cast My Golden Anchor In the Place Where Youthful Years Were Pass’d Though Heads That Bow Are Black and Brown Must Meanwhile Gather Grey New Faces Rise By Every Hearth, And Old Ones Drop Away — Yet Dearer Still That Irish Hill Than All the World Beside; It’s Home, Sweet Home, Where’er I Roam, … Continue reading Blessing For Sunday