Poems (Proctor)/The Homeless
THE HOMELESS.
Sad hearts! the wayside and the wilderness
Are near to Heaven as any fire-lit room;
Despairing Hagar angels stoop to bless;
God talks with Moses in the desert gloom;
And life is but a path to his repose
Whether we walk through meads of joy and love
Or in lone wastes where every tempest blows;—
Some peerless morn we reach our journey's close,
And lo! the rapture of the home above!
Are near to Heaven as any fire-lit room;
Despairing Hagar angels stoop to bless;
God talks with Moses in the desert gloom;
And life is but a path to his repose
Whether we walk through meads of joy and love
Or in lone wastes where every tempest blows;—
Some peerless morn we reach our journey's close,
And lo! the rapture of the home above!