Safe home, safe home in port!

—Rent cordage, shattered deck,

Torn sails, provisions short,

And only not a wreck:

But oh! the joy upon the shore

To tell our voyage-perils o’er!

The prize, the prize secure!

The athlete nearly fell;

Bare all he could endure,

And bare not always well:

But he may smile at troubles gone

Who sets the victor-garland on!

No more the foe can harm

No more of leaguered camp,

And cry of night-alarm,

And need of ready lamp:

And yet how nearly he had failed,—

How nearly had that foe prevailed!

The lamb is in the fold

In perfect safety penned:

The lion once had hold,

And thought to make an end:

But One came by with Wounded Side,

And for the sheep the Shepherd died.

The exile is at Home!

—O nights and days of tears,

O longings not to roam,

O sins, and doubts, and fears,—

What matter now (when so men say)

The King has wiped those tears away?

O happy, happy Bride!

Thy widowed hours are past,

The Bridegroom at thy side,

Thou all His own at last!

The sorrows Of thy former cup

In full fruition swallowed up!