Poems (Chitwood)/The Better Land
THE BETTER LAND."For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come."—Heb. xv., 14.
No city here, no constant habitation, Wherein to lay our throbbing hearts and fears:No city here, where sorrow and vexation Can enter not, and bring their weight of cares;No home of rest, where change can enter never; No home, which time can crumble not away;No love-wrought ties, that death can fail to sever; No spot, where darkness follows not the day.
We trust in friendship—like the tossing ocean, The waves of time can soon deface the spell:We trust in love—a word, a look, or motion, Can bear away the dreams we love so well:We trust in fame, and find it but a bubble, Whose tints, when grasped, fade silently away:We trust in wealth,—'tis on a sea of trouble, It taketh wings and flieth in a day.
We have no home, no region free from sorrow; Poor houseless wanderers in a desert drear,No place to call our own, no sweet to-morrow, Where pleasure comes unsullied by a tear.No home? no home? On drooping pinion weary, Like the lone dove that wandered from the ark,Must we roam on, still sad, unblessed, and dreary, Without a hope, a day-beam in the dark?
Ah no! ah no! from heaven's own broad expansion A spirit whispers, through the shadowy blue,"The Father has full many a spacious mansion." There is a home, a happy home for you,—A home where death and time can never enter, It stands uncrumbled by the flight of years,A stream of bliss is glittering in its center. 'Tis God's own city, unalloyed by tears.
There, in that home, no throb of deep dejection Can check the gladness of the joyful heart;But sweetly bound in God's own true affection Nothing can rend those clinging ties apart.We have no home on earth, but sadly driven Adown time's stream, where sorrow leaves a trace.Hope on, sad soul, there is a home in Heaven— A constant, firm and sure abiding place.
Let us not mourn, though life may bring us sorrow; Soon can we cast aside the cumbrous clay.We have a hope, a glorious hope to-morrow; A home in heaven, a home of constant day.We have no home on earth; then let us sever Our thoughts from earth, and its alluring love,And list the angel's voice that whispereth, ever, "There is a home of constancy above."