Yet better if, where’er we roam, Another country, truer home, Is in our hearts; if there we find The word of power, that from the mind All sad and drear thoughts shall repel, All solitary broodings quell; If in the joy of heav’n we live, Nor only on what earth can give, Tho’ pure and high--so we may learn Unto the soul’s great good to turn What things soever best engage Our thoughts towàrd our pilgrimage, Which teach us this is not our rest, That here we are but as a guest. As doubtless ’twas no other thought That in his holy bosom wrought, Who not alone content to win In life the shelter of an inn, Was fain to finish the last stage There of his mortal pilgrimage[7]
We too, if we are wise, may be Pleased for a season to be free From the encumbrances which love-- Affection hallowed from above, But earthly yet, has power to fling About the spirit’s heav’nward wing; Pleased if we feel that God is nigh, Both where we live and where we die, Whether among true kindred thrown, Or seeming outwardly alone, That whether this or that befal, He watches and has care of all.
Much have we to support us in our strife With things which else would crush us, nor alone Secret refreshings of the inward life, But many a flower of sweetest scent is strown Upon our outward and our open way; None sweeter than are at some seasons known To them who dwell for many a prosperous day Under one roof, and have, as they would hope, One purpose for their lives, one aim, one scope-- To labour upward on the path to heaven. Full of refreshment these occasions are, Like seasonable resting-places given To pilgrim feet; for tho’, alas! too rare, Yet the sweet memories they supply, will give The food on which affection’s heart may live In after times; since it were sad indeed If all more intimate knowledge did not breed More trust in one another and more love, More faith that each is seeking to attain With humble earnest effort, not in vain, The happy rest of God. And so they part On their divided ways with cheerful heart, Knowing that in all places they will call On the same God and Father over all; And part not wholly, since they meet whose prayer Meets at the throne of grace; one life divine Through all the branches of the mystical vine Flows ever, even as the same breath of air Lifts every leaflet of a mighty grove. And from our meeting we shall reap a share Of a yet higher good, if we have won Hereby the strengthening of one weak desire, The fanning of one faint spark to a fire, The stirring of one prayer, that we may prove Stedfast and faithful till our work be done, Until the course appointed us be run.