Poems (Hale)/The Returning Wanderer

by Mary Whitwell Hale

THE RETURNING WANDERER.

  Welcome! thou blessed spot!
Too long my feet the stranger's soil have pressed.
Long viewless, but, O! never yet forgot,
  I seek thy blissful rest.

  Welcome! my childhood's home!
How doth my soul with voiceless rapture burn!
Once more thy well-remembered haunts to roam,
  My wandering footsteps turn.

  Before the shrine I bow,
Holy and hallowed by the air of heaven,
Where by the covenant of baptismal vow,
  My soul to God was given.

  My spirit leaps to greet
Its altar fires, its music rich and rare,
And listen to the breathings low and sweet,
  Borne on the wing of prayer.

  And thou, upon whose breast,
Peaceful I slept in helpless infancy,
Whose voice in dreams I hear, mother most blest!
  Weary I turn to thee.

  When on the billowy deep,
Through cloud and storm my watery path I trod,
Thine eye around my way its watch did keep,
  Thou ever blessed God!

  When death's dread power was nigh,
Thy guardian love my life unharmed hath kept,
While fond affection o'er the dying eye,
  In speechless sorrow wept.

  Therefore to Thee I raise,
To Thee, whence mercy and deliverance came,
With filial gratitude, a song of praise,
  And bless Thy hallowed name.

  Guide me in safety through
Earth's wanderings, till death's narrow way be pressed;
And the sweet founts and pastures green I view
  Of my eternal rest.