Art thou troubled? Music will calm thee, Art thou weary? Rest shall be thine, rest shall be thine.
Music, source of all gladness, Heals thy sadness at her shrine, Music, music ever divine.
Music, music calleth, with voice divine.
When the welcome spring is smiling, all the earth with flow'rs beguiling, after winter's dreary reign, sweetest music doth attend her, Heav'nly harmonies doth lend her, chanting praises in her train, chanting praises in her train.
Art thou troubled? Music will calm thee, Art thou weary? Rest shall be thine, rest shall be thine.
Music, source of all gladness, Heals thy sadness at her shrine, Music, music ever divine.
Music, music calleth, with voice divine.
Old English..Ouch..
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