All But God Is Changing

O Mary, Go And Call The Cattle Home, And Call The Cattle Home, And Call The Cattle Home, Across The Sands O' Dee!

All The Butterflies And Cockyolybirds Would Fly Past Me.

Beauty Is God's Handwriting — A Wayside Sacrament; Welcome It In Every Fair Face, Every Fair Sky, Every Fair Flower, And Thank For It Him.

Young Blood Must Have Its Course, Lad, And Every Dog Its Day.

Three Fishers Went Sailing Away To The West, Away To The West As The Sun Went Down; Each Thought On The Woman Who Loved Him The Best, And The Children Stood Watching Them Out Of The Town.