OUR HOME IN GLORY by Florence Booth Miller

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 2, 1901

OUR HOME IN GLORY.

By Florence Booth Miller

WHEN we reach our home in glory, Where no storm-clouds ever rise, When we sing the old sweet story Round the throne beyond the skies, There will be no weary heartache, Eyes that see thru mists of tears, Earthly trials all forgotten Thru the never-ending years.

Here the heart is sad, then joyous; There 'tis joyous, never sad; Here are blasted hopes found always; There our years are always glad.

Ah! the scene as I contemplate Standing round the dazzling throne, Freed from earthly care and sorrow, “When the King shall claim His own.”

Thousands and ten thousands angels Strike anew their harps of gold, Singing, “Holy Lord Almighty For Thy faithfulness of old.” Saints enraptured swell the chorus, And their golden crowns they lay At the feet of their Redeemer Thru the bright unending day.

Saviour, how my heart is longing To behold Thy pierced hands Bearing crowns of jeweled splendor For the glad, triumphant band. Then there’ll be no weary heartache, Eyes that see thru mists of tears, When we reach our home in glory— Our blest home thru endless years.

Sidney, N. Y. FLORENCE BOOTH MILLER.