Classic Poem

Home, sweet home, — the many mansions of my Father's house above, —
Builded by Almighty wisdom, stored with every gift of love,
Where the children all are gather'd, not a wanderer left to roam,
All dear names in one enwoven, home, my everlasting home.

Eden bloom'd with flowers and fruitage; but no mortal feet have trod
Paths of such transcendent beauty as the Paradise of God,
Where the crystal waters flowing from the Throne, a ceaseless tide,
Gladden with perennial freshness trees of life on either side.
Earth has known her cities crowded with the noblest sons of men,
Rich with all that marks communion, citizen with citizen;
But Jerusalem the holy, dwellingplace of God's elect,
Hath no peer, for of that city God alone is Architect.

There the wrestler and the racer wear the amaranthine crown;
There the warrior for the palm-branch lays the sword of battle down;
There the fellow-heirs with Jesus share their Lord's inheritance,
Riches true and ever-during, wealth surpassing utterance.

There the weary cease from labour, there the lifelong task is o'er;
Godlike pleasures without number there well forth for evermore;
Harpers harping Hallelujah, singers singing songs of joy,
Banquets of Divine refreshment, ministries of loved employ.

There the saints and angels mingle in serene society;
Work and worship there are blended; service soars to royalty;
There the Bride partakes the fulness of her Husband's perfect bliss,
Stamped for ever with His likeness, always seeing Him who is.

And are these things ours, dear Master? Is it but a little while,
Ere the day shall break for ever in the sunlight of Thy smile?
Only may we love Thee truly, not for harp, or feast, or throne,
Love Thee for Thou first hast loved us, love Thee for Thyself alone.