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150

HOME BECAUSE NOT HOME.

I need not call it home!
'Tis but a ship at sea;
I look across the waves and foam,
I press across to Thee.
I press across to Thee,
As on the prow I stand,
Trusting Thy glorious Face to see
In the beloved land;
In the beloved land
Where our beloved are,
Where, ever, near to Thee they stand
And watch us, not from far.
This Earth, in every clime,
Speeds through the skies apace,
Measuring the ceaseless flow of time
By her swift whirl through space.
151

And we, in Time or Space,
Abide not still one day;
I need not, then, call home the place
Wherein we cannot stay!
Wherein we need not stay,
Uncabled, launched, and free,
And cleaving through the seas our way
To our beloved and Thee.
This rest-house by the way,
I need not call it home;
'Tis but Thy guest-house, night and day,
Where pilgrims go and come;
Where pilgrims come and go,
Welcomed and sped by Thee:
I need not build a home below;
Thy guest-house let it be!
For it is Thine, not mine,
And therefore 'tis no care;
Yet I must do my best with Thine
To make it bright and fair;
To make it bright and sweet
For Thee and Thine alway;
152

A resting-place for weary feet,
To speed them on Thy way:
Thy ship upon Thy deep,
Steered to Thy shore by Thee;
Thy guest-house which for Thee I keep,
And therefore home to me.
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