Nearer Home

Phoebe Cary (1824–1871)

ONE sweetly solemn thought

Comes to me o’er and o’er;

I am nearer home to-day

That I ever have been before;

Nearer my Father’s house,

Where the many mansions be;

Nearer the great white throne,

Nearer the crystal sea;

Nearer the bound of life,

Where we lay our burdens down;

Nearer leaving the cross,

Nearer gaining the crown!

But lying darkly between,

Winding down through the night,

Is the silent, unknown stream,

That leads at last to the light.

Closer and closer my steps

Come to the dread abysm:

Closer Death to my lips

Presses the awful chrism.

Oh, if my mortal feet

Have almost gained the brink;

If it be I am nearer home

Even to-day than I think;

Father, perfect my trust;

Let my spirit feel in death,

That her feet are firmly set

On the rock of a living faith!