 | Poems of home and country |  |
SALLIE'S HOME.
This is my home,—my fair, bright home,
The home of peace, and hope and love;
The green fields wide expand below,
And heaven's blue arch bends sweet above.
The home of peace, and hope and love;
The green fields wide expand below,
And heaven's blue arch bends sweet above.
Light sifts among the quivering leaves,
Like angels floating from the sky;
And twittering birds around the eaves
Whisper of unseen homes on high.
Like angels floating from the sky;
And twittering birds around the eaves
Whisper of unseen homes on high.
Mine are the windows where the sun
Pours his fair light in golden streams,
And morn and eve and glowing noon
Are gladdened by his healing beams.
Pours his fair light in golden streams,
And morn and eve and glowing noon
Are gladdened by his healing beams.
Mine are the rooms, for rest and love,
For patience, work, and worldly care;
For books, and friends, and widening thought,
For tranquil joy, and holy prayer.
For patience, work, and worldly care;
For books, and friends, and widening thought,
For tranquil joy, and holy prayer.
Mine is the landscape, rich and rare,—
Beyond the wealth of Sheba's queen;
The pleasant homes, the clustering vines,
The long cathedral aisles of green.
Beyond the wealth of Sheba's queen;
The pleasant homes, the clustering vines,
The long cathedral aisles of green.
Mine, through His love whose reverend head
Is pillowed on the Saviour's breast;
Mine, through His grace whose promise bids
The widowed heart on Him to rest.
Is pillowed on the Saviour's breast;
Mine, through His grace whose promise bids
The widowed heart on Him to rest.
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Mine,—yet not mine; for all is God's,
Myself and all I call my own.
I bow, submissive to His will;
I kneel, a supplicant, at His throne.
Myself and all I call my own.
I bow, submissive to His will;
I kneel, a supplicant, at His throne.
Mine,—yet not mine; and He is mine,
On Him I lean, on Him I call,
Rejoiced, were all my comforts fled,
To find in Him my all in all.
On Him I lean, on Him I call,
Rejoiced, were all my comforts fled,
To find in Him my all in all.
Bridgeport, Conn., May 24, 1891.
| Poems of home and country | |