p. 11 | In the Arms of Home by Chas. P. Weede

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 27, 1907

In the Arms of Home

By Chas. P. Weede

FAR have we gone in the passing of years, Strange were the streets and alien the strand; Long have we wandered the world-wide frontiers, And tasted the life of every land. But from their castles, their plains, and their streams, And from the wilds of the wide sea foam, Weary we turn to the scenes of our dreams— Let us go back to the old, old home.

Sweet was that haven in which we were born, Cradle and love and a garden of dreams; Care-free and joyous we rambled the morn, While fled the years whence nothing redeems. But by the grim Time at last we were borne Forth from the garden of dreams to roam; And not till we moor in the true golden morn Shall we again find all of that home.

Deep is the touch of a mother's love, True is the guide of a father's hand; With brothers and sisters they lift us above The drift and the dregs of a life's lower land. There were we made in all we may be Of goodness or greatness in years that come; There were we bent for eternity, Back in the arms of the dear old home. — Chas. P. Weede.