It is neither bricks nor stone
or doors and walls.
no, that’s not home.
For the pine tree near the porch
or the roses in the yard
my heart carries no torch.
Not china made of bone
do I miss at all
no, not while I am gone.
A house is made of this
and many other things
none of which I miss.
Those that love and care
kept within my heart
I know await me there.
This is what I’ve known
to be always true
their love says, I am home.

It won’t be streets of gold
not the gates of pearl
no, not things of which I’m told.
It’s won’t be lack of pain,
my body made anew
or glories I may attain.
It’s not the saints, or this
the angelic songs
that will bring my heart bliss.
It’s not those I did love
I knew when on earth
who I will meet again above.
It is my lord of grace
and unbound majesty
who will see my face.
He who for my sins did atone
and washed me with his blood
will say to me, I am home.

10/22/2006

Posted on 10/22/2006
Copyright © 2025 Charles M Harrison