Poem October 15, 1938 Issue

Home

ROSEMARY C. COBHAM

Home is the consciousness of good
That holds us in its wide embrace;
The steady light that comforts us
In every path our footsteps trace.

Our Father's house has many rooms,
And each with peace and love imbued;
No child can ever stray beyond
The compass of infinitude.

Home is the Father's sweet "Well done,"
God's daily, hourly gift of grace.
We go to meet our brother's need,
And find our home in every place.

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