For works with similar titles, see Home.
HOME.
There is a joy in home
The heartless ne'er can know,
Where secret springs of love and truth
In trustfulness o'erflow—
Where every day a light is shed
Still brighter o'er life's scene,
Reflecting love's endearing glance,
As it at first had been.
The heartless ne'er can know,
Where secret springs of love and truth
In trustfulness o'erflow—
Where every day a light is shed
Still brighter o'er life's scene,
Reflecting love's endearing glance,
As it at first had been.
There is a joy in home,
Where heart responds to heart,
And every thought an echo finds,
While life is nought, apart—
Where not a tone, a tear, or smile,
Can pass unheeded by,
But every glance is watched and read
By one untiring eye.
Where heart responds to heart,
And every thought an echo finds,
While life is nought, apart—
Where not a tone, a tear, or smile,
Can pass unheeded by,
But every glance is watched and read
By one untiring eye.
There is a joy in home,
Where'er affections dwell,
And sweetest words of sympathy
Awake the inward spell—
Where not a trace of selfishness
Nor angry words intrude,
Where life seems peace and joyousness,
Earth beautiful and good.
Where'er affections dwell,
And sweetest words of sympathy
Awake the inward spell—
Where not a trace of selfishness
Nor angry words intrude,
Where life seems peace and joyousness,
Earth beautiful and good.
These are the joys of home,
To those who would embrace
A something of more lasting worth
Than in the world we trace;—
A world where pleasure weaves with woe
A wreath of thorny flowers,
And in whose gayest scenes of mirth
There lurk embittered hours.
To those who would embrace
A something of more lasting worth
Than in the world we trace;—
A world where pleasure weaves with woe
A wreath of thorny flowers,
And in whose gayest scenes of mirth
There lurk embittered hours.