p. 8 | Traveling Toward Home by Archer Wright

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 9, 1907

Traveling Toward Home

By Archer Wright

ARCHER WRIGHT

ALONG the beaten road he toiled With sun-browned face and garments soiled, A traveler forlorn. A kind voice called, “Turn in, my friend; The afternoon is near its end. Somewhere you soon the night must spend,— Abide with me till morn.”

The stranger paused, but shook his head. “I might be numbered with the dead Before the morrow come. Each step I journey brings me near To loved ones whom my heart holds dear;” He added, with a voice of cheer, “I’m traveling toward home.”

One day God called me forth to roam Afar from friends and earthly home, A pilgrim on the earth; Forsaking all, to bear the cross, For Jesus’ sake to suffer loss, Counting all worldly riches dross To win eternal worth.

Then came this cheering thought to me: Where’er I go, on land or sea, Beneath heaven’s starlit dome, Though from my loved ones severed wide, If I am by my Saviour’s side, Living for him, the Crucified, I’m traveling toward home.

And now, when friendly faces smile And bid me take my ease a while, Saluting by the way, I see that traveler forlorn Who would not tarry till the morn, And hear his voice in gentle scorn Refuse an hour’s delay.

I see the home where Jesus reigns, I hear the angels’ choral strains; And though my feet may roam In paths untried, I will not wait At ease outside the pearly gate. I hasten on, lest I, too late, Lose all in losing home. Moline, Ill.