It was in the time of autumn,
The golden leaves lay all around,
That we laid our dear old father,
Away beneath the cold damp ground.
It seems but a short time ago,
That he was in his fullest bloom,
But death alas has laid him low,
Another victim to the tomb.
Many sad farewells were given,
Many bitter tears were shed,
Our sad hearts all beat with anguish,
As he lay on his dying bed.
On his savior's summons he was readied,
On his journey home to go,
And fearless drew near the dark valley,
Washed in His blood whiter than snow.
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