DWELL'ST thou with thine own people? are the joys,
The hopes, the blessings of "sweet home" thine own?
"The Word is nigh thee;" hear the sacred voice!
At morn, bow with thy loved ones round the throne;
At noon-tide read and pray; and in the hour
When evening's shades close round thee, let the truth
Subdue thy heart by its transforming power;
That thou, whom God has blessed, may'st serve him from thy youth.
Affection's ties oft sunder; and the home
Of peace and love, sorrow and death can enter.
Art thou, indeed, a mourner? dost thou roam
Alone and sad, where late thy joys did centre?
"The Word is nigh thee!" and though bitter grief
Makes all the future seem one day of sorrow,—
Its words of peace shall grant thee sweet relief;
The night of pain and fear shall find a joyous morrow
"The Word of God is nigh thee!" let it be
The lamp that o'er thy pathway sheds its light,
Then, through the mists of error, thou shalt see
The way of truth, all radiant and bright,
In which of old the sons of God did go,
Leaning on Him who was their friend and guide;
Nor shall thy heart be faint, thy step be slow,
Till thou in Heaven, thy home, shalt triumph by their side
The Word of God shall bless thee, in the hour
When human hopes and human friends shall fail:
It was in health thy portion, and its power
Is mightiest even in the gloomy vale.
No evil shalt thou fear while He is with thee;
The sting of death his hand shall take away,
His rod and staff shall comfort thee and cheer thee,
And thou with Him shalt dwell through heaven's eternal day.
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg