THE WANDERER'S GRAVE.

Text by Rufus B. Sage [1817-1893], written upon passing
Scotts Bluff on the Oregon Trail in 1841, published in his
Scenes in the Rocky Mountains, and in Oregon, California, 
New Mexico, Texas, and the grand prairies, or, Notes by the 
way, during an excursion of three years with a description 
of the countries passed through, including their geography, 
geology, resources, present condition, and the different 
nations inhabiting them (Philadelphia: Carey & Hart, 1846).

Tune by William Lafayette Williams in The Sacred Harp, 1859,
page 414.  The alto part claimed by S.M. Denson in the James 
edition (1911) is identical to that claimed by William Walker
in Christian Harmony (1873), page 139.


 Away from friends, away from home,
  And all the heart holds dear,
 A weary wand'rer laid him down,
  Nor kindly aid was near.

 And sickness prey'd upon his frame
  And told its tale of woe,
 While sorrow mark'd his pallid cheeks
  And sank his spirit low.

 Nor waiting friends stood round his couch
  A healing to impart,
 Nor human voice spoke sympathy,
  To sooth his aching heart

 The stars of night his watchers were,
  His fan the rude winds' breath,
 And while they sigh'd their hollow moans,
  He closed his eyes in death.

 Upon the prairie's vast expanse
  This weary wand'rer lay ;
 And far from friends, and far from home,
  He breath'd his life away ! 

 A lovely valley marks the spot
  That claims his lowly bed ;
 But o'er the wand'rer's hapless fate
  No friendly tear was shed.

 No willing grave received the corse
  Of this poor lonely one; .
 His bones, alas, were left to bleach
  And moulder 'neath the sun !

 The night-wolf howl'd his requiem,
  The rude winds danced his dirge;
 And e'er anon, in mournful chime,
  Sigh'd forth the mellow surge!

 The Spring shall teach the rising grass
  To twine for him a tomb ;
 And, o'er the spot where he doth lie,
  Shall bid the wild flowers bloom.

 But, far from friends, and far from home,
  Ah, dismal thought, to die !
 Oh, let me 'mid my friends expire,
  And with my fathers lie.