HOME-SICKNESS.
8,8
Ich wolt daz ich daheime wer
Henry of Loufenburg. Fifteenth Century.
trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1869
I would I were at last at home, And all earth's trials overcome: | At home in that calm, happy place Where I shall see God face to face! | Then thither, Heart, for refuge flee, Where angel-hosts are waiting thee. | If earth for thee be only gloom, Thou wilt but get the sooner home. | At home is Life that never dies, And perfect joy unmixed with sighs; | And perfect health, untouched by pain, That perfect ever shall remain. | A thousand years are as a day, For weariness hath there no sway. | Rise thither, heart and soul of mine, And seek that blessedness divine. | The treasure that is stored not there Will only bring thee woe and care. | Thou hast no resting-place below, To-day, to-morrow, thou may'st go. | Then since it may not other be, From earth's deluding phantoms flee: | Repent thy sins, prepare for home, To-morrow may the Voice say, Come. | Farewell, O World, now home I fare; God guide all true hearts safely there! | |