Little Footsteps

THE MUSIC SENT TO ANY ADDRESS, ON RECEIPT OF 40 CENTS, BY HENRY J. WEHMAN, 50 CHATHAM STREET, NEW YORK.

LITTLE FOOTSTEPS.

Little footsteps, soft and gentle,
Gliding by our cottage door;
How I love to hear their trample,
As I heard in days of yore!
Tiny feet that traveled lightly
In this weary world of woe,
Now silent lie in youder church-yard,
’Neath the dismal grave below.
Little footsteps, soft and gentle,
Gliding by our cottage door;
How I love to hear their trample,
As I heard in days of yore!
None

She sleeps the sleep that knows no waking.
By the golden river’s shore,
And my heart it yearns with sadness,
When I pass that cottage door.
Sweetly now the angels carol
Tidings from our loved one far,
That she still does hover o’er us,
And will be our guiding star.
She sleeps the sleep that knows no waking,
By the golden river’s shore.
And my heart it yearns with sadness,
When I pass that cottage door.—

Little footsteps now will journey
In the world of sin no more,
Ne’er they’ll press the sand-banks lightly,
By the golden river’s shore.
Mother, weep not; father, grieve not;
Try to smooth your troubles o’er,
For I’ll think of her as sleeping,
Not as dead, but gone before.
Little footsteps now will journey
In the world of sin no more,
Ne’er they’ll press the sand-banks lightly,
By the golden river’s shore.—
None

Henry J. Wehman, Song Publisher, No. 50 Chatham Street, (Up-Stairs . New York.

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