This book is all that ’s left me now!
  Tears will unbidden start,—
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
  I press it to my heart.
For many generations past,
  Here is our family tree;
My mother’s hands this Bible clasped,
  She, dying,...

This book is all that ’s left me now,—
  Tears will unbidden start,—
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
  I press it to my heart.
For many generations past
  Here is our family tree;
My mother’s hands this Bible clasped,
  She, dying,...