Psalm 127:1 “Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.
God send us a little home; To come back to when we roam.
Wooden floors and fluted tiles; wide windows, a view for miles.
Red firelight and deep chairs; small white beds upstairs.
Great talk in little nooks; soft colors, rows of books.
One picture on each wall; not many things at all.
God send us a little ground; Tall trees stand 'round.
Homely flowers in fertile sod; Overhead, Thy stars, O God.
God bless thee when winds blow; Our home and all we know.