MY SPIRIT'S HOME.
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Where is the home my spirit seeks, Amid this world of sin and care, Where even joy of sorrow speaks, And Death is lurking everywhere? Oh! not amid its fading bowers My wearied soul can find repose, For serpents lurk beneath its flowers, And thorns surround its fairest rose. The home of earth is not for me; Far off my spirit's dwelling lies; The eye of faith alone can see Its pearly gates beyond the skies; The ear of faith alone can hear The music of its ceaseless song, As nearer with each passing year Its angel-chorus rolls along: There is the home my spirit seeks, Above the fadeless stars on high! Where not a note of discord breaks The silver chain of harmony; Where light without a shadow lies, And joy can speak without a tear, And Death alone—the tyrant—dies: The home my spirit seeks is there! M. Y. G.