SAFE at home in the harbor of heaven,
Where storms come no more,
All the tempests of earth have but driven
Our bark nearer shore.
Roaring loud in their angry commotion,
The billows did foam;
But all the wild waves of the ocean
But wafted us home.
While the low vault of heaven held thunder,
Full stored in the dark,
There were tempests above, and just under,
A tempest-tossed bark,
No sight of the land in the distance,
Of flower or tree,
But ever, with cruel insistence,
The shout of the sea.
The billows were foam-capped and hoary,
And doubts would o'erwhelm;
But now, 'tis a voyage of glory,
With Christ at the helm.
He spoke to the ocean's mad riot,
The winds heard His will,
The seas ceased to roar, and were quiet,
The tempests were still.
My heart doth rejoice in its lightness,
For yonder I see
The great pearly gates in their whiteness
Stand open for me,
And white robes and palms will be given.
Life's dangers are past,
And softly we drift in the haven,
Thank God, home at last.