CARRIE KNIGHT by Carrie Knight

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 30, 1916

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 93, No. 16.

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CARRIE KNIGHT

By Carrie Knight

Home

CARRIE KNIGHT

WHAT restful memories cluster around this word! We measure distance by its hearthstone; for—

“Home is where the heart is, Lie it east, or lie it west; And the heart is with the loved ones In the old home nest.”

Home has been defined as a mirror which shows both sides of its occupants; but there we find true friends, for they “know all about us, and love us just the same.”

In the State of California stands a magnificently furnished mansion. Many servants and much money were required to keep the house and grounds in order when the lady who built it was alive. The man who fell heir to the property, failing to dispose of it, at last opened it to the public as a show place, and among the many visitors who came to admire it was a mother with her little boy. As they were leaving, she said, “Well, son, what do you think of this for a home?” “Oh, it’s grand!” he replied; “but, mother, where is the home?” He realized that—

“Home’s not merely four square walls, Though with pictures hung and gilded; Home is where affection calls, Filled with shrines the heart hath builded. Home! go watch the faithful dove Darting ’neath the heavens above us: Home is where there’s one to love, Home is where there’s one to love us.”

“Home’s not merely root and room, Needs it something to endear it; Home is where the heart can bloom, Where there’s some kind lip to cheer it. What is home with none to meet, None to welcome, none to cheer us? Home is sweet and only sweet Where there’s one to love and meet us.”

God established the first home, and although the branches of the trees were its walls, and the blue sky its roof, it was home in the truest sense, for love was there. Its inmates were supremely happy until sin separated them from the love of God; and today we can still trace the results of sin in the severed home ties, the broken hearts, the worry, discontent, and selfishness to be found on every side.

While waiting for a train recently, I noticed a lady sitting at the other side of the station. There were plenty of rockers in the rest room, and in a secluded corner a sofa invited the tired traveler. But she sat bolt upright in a straight-backed chair, her arms filled with bundles, and a hard, uncompromising expression on her face. I thought, How often home is robbed of its peace, and jarring notes come in, because we choose to hug our perplexities in place of heeding the admonition, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord,” and knowing for ourselves the blessedness of the promise, “He shall sustain thee.” Let us be brave enough to say with Paul, “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content,” and do our part to make home the happiest, sweetest, most pleasant and restful place in the world for those who share it with us.

Harrisburg, Oregon.