Mother, they say the stars are bright, And the broad heav'ns are blue, I dream of them by day, by night, And think them all like you, I cannot touch the distant skies, The stars ne'er speak to me; Yet their sweet images arise And blend with thoughts of Thee. I know not why, but often think Of thee, fair land of bliss; And when I hear the voice I dream That heav'n is like to this. When my sad heart to thine is pressed, My follies all forgiv'n Sweet pleasures warm my beating breast, And this, I say, is heav'n. O mother, will the God above Forgive my faults like thee? Will He bestow such care and love On a blind girl like me? Dear mother, leave me not alone, Go with me when I die; Lead the blind daughter to the throne And stay in yonder sky.