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33 WEEKS AND COUNTING
I sat alone at midnight hour
And watched the starlight skies
And dreamed I heard my mother say,
"I wish my boy was nigh.
I know not where he is tonight,
Perhaps in foreign land,
But this I know, if life holds out,
He'll wander back again.
"He's coming home, oh joyful thought;
My boy no more will roam.
A letter here says, 'Mother, dear,
I'm coming, coming home.'"
Alas, dear friends, 'twas but a dream.
My mother's here no more.
She's left this world of sin and pain,
For Canaan's happy shore.
Lord, send some messenger of love
To guide my wayward feet,
That I may meet my mother dear,
Who's waiting at the gate.
I'm going home, 'twill not be long,
Ere I shall cease to roam,
And then I'll join redemption throne
With Mother dear at home.