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 loveOr in lone wastes where every tempest blows;—Some peerless morn we reach our journey's close, And lo! the rapture of the home above!