A Home to Rest In

A Home to Rest In

The world, dear John, as the folks told us,

Is a world of trouble and care;

Many a cloud of grief will enfold us,

And the sunshine of grief is but rare.

But there's something yet to be bright and blest in,

No matter how humble the lot;

The world still gives us a home to rest in,

It's holiest and happiest spot.

Sweet home! dear home! on the northern heather,

On the sunniest southern plain;

The Lapland hut in its wintry weather,

The tent of the Indian main—

Be it gorgeous wealth that our temple is drest in,

Be it poor and of little worth—

Oh! home! OUR! a hom to rest in

Is the dearest thing on earth.

But time, dear John, is using us badly—

Our home crumbles day by day,

And we're laying our dear ones, swiftly and sadly,

In the dust of the valley away,

There's a death-robe soon for us both to be drest in—

A place for us under the sod;

Be heaven at last the home we shall rest in—

The rest of the people of God!

Unattributed

1:37, p. 1

3.31.1860