Are hopes to be only a dream?

He turned with a look of compassion,
His voice, as sweet waters and low,
My child, I've a palace built for thee,
Which time nor rude winds can o'erthrow.
I've watched thee in all of thy wanderings,
E'en when thy homestead of clay fell;
I list for thy knock at our portals,
Heard thee faintly ask, "Is all well?"

When doubts have assailed, I would press thee,
In sorrow, stood oft' by thy side;
I've quelled maddened waves as they dashed thee,
Soul, ring heaven's bells and abide.
Thy footsteps shall fall in soft places,
And by mirrored waters can'st roam;
Thy kindred, thy Father, shall greet thee,
To peace, beauty, love,--welcome home.




~Peace.~


Father, before Thee I am kneeling
In gratitude and love,
Sad, weary years I sought, appealing
For succor from above.