| As my mind wanders back to the quaint little shack
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| Where in childhood I used to play;
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| There with mother and dad, we were happy and glad
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| As we whiled the sweet moments away;
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| We would all kneel in prayer and in reverence there
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| We would praise the Redeemer on high
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| Now in sadness I pine for that old home of mine
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| And I long for that mother’s love
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| I’d like to go back to that quaint little tumble-down shack
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| I’d like to spend a day where in heaven forever I’ll stay
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| But time won’t turn back; |
| we must travel til Jesus shall call
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| Then we’ll be happy in that land where no cabins fall
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| Though I drifted away from childhood’s sweet play
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| I can still hear those voices sweet
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| They are calling me back to that quaint little shack
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| Where the circle will never more meet;
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| But some glad, happy day, up in heaven they say
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| We will praise the Redeemer on high
|
| Now in sadness I pine for that old home of mine
|
| And I long for that mother’s love
|
| I’d like to go back to that quaint little tumble-down shack
|
| I’d like to spend a day where in heaven forever I’ll stay
|
| But time won’t turn back; |
| we must travel til Jesus shall call
|
| Then we’ll be happy in that land where no cabins fall
|
| In that land where no cabins fall |