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No. 49. The Mortgaged Home.

Tune

OLD SOLDIER.

1. We hear a low wailing from close to the grave;
The breeze bears it onward; it calls us to save
The remnant of freedom that has come to our lot;
Yes, the birthright of home, to dwell in our cot.
Home! Home! sweet, sweet home,
Yes, the birthright of home, to dwell in our cot.

2. Their mortgage is cruel, their hearts are but stone;
They hear not the crying, nor answer the moan;
The man with his mortgage he grinds us with scorn,
'Till hope spreads her pinions and leaves us forlorn.
Home! Home! sweet, sweet home,
Till hope spreads her pinions and leaves us forlorn.

3. Let us hasten, my brothers, send forth the glad word,
That Freemen are Free, in the name of the Lord!
And will break the vile fetters that now make us moan,
And strike for the laws that will give us a home.
Home! Home! sweet, sweet home!
And strike for the laws that will give us a home.

"Love thy neighbor as thyself" has struggled for ages to become a law in human hearts, but as yet has failed of ratification by the people for universal application. — Better Way.