THE CHRISTIAN'S DESIRE.
By J. P. Lorenz
"But now they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly; wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for he hath prepared for them a city." Heb. 11:16. WHILE the storms of life are blowing
O'er this world, so dark and vast,
Voices in my soul are sighing
O'er the fair and vanished past.
While around me souls are dying,
Others sink beneath the foam,
Wearful my soul is sighing,
Heavenly Father, call me home. Call me home; my soul is weary,
Wand'ring here on earth below
Where so many hearts are dreary
From the blizzard storms that blow.
Fett'ring are the winds that pass me
As I through this dark world roam;
Weary, sad, my soul doth pray thee,
To that "country" call me home. Call me home to joys eternal,
Where no beating storms molest,
Where, in pastures fair and vernal,
Weary souls in peace will rest.
There, beyond the reach of sadness,
In that bright and starry dome,
We will praises sing with gladness;
To that "city" call me home. Call me home; my eyes are casting
Views on yonder radiant shore,
Where, in peace that's everlasting,
We shall rest forever more.
When at last thy voice is ringing,
Calling blessed souls to come,
When our sighs are turned to singing,
With thy people call me home.