THE HOME SICKNESS

9%

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 2, 1859

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 14, No. 2.

Read the full edition

THE HOME SICKNESS.

BY H. BONAR D. D.
And whence this weariness, This gathering cloud of gloom? Whence this dull weight of loneliness, These greedy cravings for the tomb? These greedier cravings for the hopes that lie Beyond the tomb, beyond the things that die; Beyond the smiles and joys that come and go; Fevering the Spirit with their fitful flow; Beyond the circle where the shadows fall; Within the region where my God is all?
It is not that I fear To breast the storm or wrestle with the wave, To swim the torrent or the blast to brave, To toil or suffer in this day of strife As He may will, who gave the struggling life.
It is not that the cross Is heavier than the drooping frame can bear, Or that I find no kindred heart to share The burden, which, in these last days of ill, Seems to press heavier, sharper, sorer still.
It is not that the snare Is laid around for my unwary feet, And that a thousand wily tempters greet My slippery steps, and lead me far astray From that safe guidance of the narrow way.
It is not that the path Is rough and perilous, beset with foes, From the first step down to its weary close, Strewn with the flint, the briar and the thorn, That wound my limbs and leave my raiment torn.
It is not that the sky Is darkly sad, and the unloving air Chills me to fainting; and the clouds that there Hang over me seem signal clouds unfurled, Portending wrath to an unready world.
It is not that the earth Has grown less bright and fair—that these grey hills, These ever-lapsing, ever-lulling rills, And these breeze-haunted woods—that ocean clear, Have now become less beautiful, less dear— But I am home-sick.
Let me, then, weary be! I shrink not—murmur not; In all the homelessness, I see The church's pilgrim lot; Her lot until her absent Lord shall come, And the long homeless here, shall find a home.
Then no more weariness! No gathering cloud of gloom; Then no dull weight of loneliness, No greedy cravings for the tomb; For death shall then be swallowed up of life, And the glad victory shall end the strife!