|A Place in the Sun|
How fine the day has been! How bright was the sun...
How lovely and joyful the course of his run.
But he rose in a mist, when the day begun,
And there followed some droppings of rain.
But now the fair traveler's come to the west,
His rays are all gold and his beauties are best;
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest...
And foretells a bright rising again!
-- Isaac Watts
|Like a tired, dusty road,
I get weary from the load,
Moving on, moving on;
Like this old troubled earth,
I've been roving since my birth,
Moving on, moving on.
'Cause there's a place in the sun
Where there's hope for everyone,
Where my poor weary heart's gotta run;
There's a place in the sun
And before my life is done,
Got to find me a place in the sun.
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