I used to hear them faintly
Those evening bells for prayer,
Across the fields of Tilney,
Beyond the sunset's glare.
I heard them in my childhood,
Those bells of Timberland,
When I was always happy,
Holding my father's hand.
Enchanted in the distance,
They rode upon the air,
Seeming to float from Heaven;
I knew not how nor where.
All through life's dusty pathway,
I heard those bells ring out,
A chiming in the distance,
That sung, my path about.
My father—how I miss him—
Lies in the churchyard there,
He takes my hand no longer
He knows not how I fare.
But I would give up everything
To hold again his hand,
And hear across the meadows
The bells of Timberland.