This text comes from A First Series of Hymns and Songs, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Oh, call my brother back again,
I cannot play alone;
The summer comes with flow'r and bee;
Where is my brother gone?
Oh! call my brother back to me,
I cannot play alone.
The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;
I care not now to chase its flight—
Oh! call my brother back.
Oh! call, &c.
The flowers run wild—the flowers we sow'd
Around our garden-tree;
Our vine is drooping with its load—
Oh! call him back to me.
Oh! call, &c.
He would not hear my voice, fair child!
He may not come to thee;
The face that once like spring-time smiled
On earth no more thou'lt see!
Thy brother is in heaven, my boy,
And thou must play alone.
A rose's brief bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given;
You call for him in vain, my boy—
Thy brother is in heaven!
Thy brother is, &c.
And has he left the birds and flowers,
And must I call in vain;
And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?
Oh I call, &c.
And by the brook, and in the glade,
Are all our wanderings o'er?
Oh! while my brother with me play'd,
Would I had loved him more!
Oh! call, &c.