Little Home
Oh little home how nice it is
To sit and warm my hands
The fireplace burning soft and still
I'm grateful to be alive
And thanking God for what we have
And grateful as can be
I sing the songs of the birds on the wing
And the fish in the pools of the sea
The song of things that seek shelter
And find it without having trouble
The song of the man who is returned to me
Night after unfailing night
If these things are taken away from me
Then I should surely die
But while they're here I'm enjoying them
With a joy that makes me sigh
Don't trouble creatures who are content
Don't make them feel unhappy
Don't tell the bee not to build things
Or the clovers not to make honey
Don't hurt nor harm the flying thing
Nor the willow that stands by the shore
Don't trouble the road that stretches on
Don't trouble them any more
The world is ready to creep out anew
And start her busy morning
Don't tell her that she is not what she is
She sings because It's morning
The Earth is home and that is why
Your trespass is forbidden
All hunting and changing is not allowed
Satan, get thee hence
In Jesus' Name,
Amen