Classic Poem

Our earthly homes are simple things
Of plaster and of board,
Sometimes as humble as the nest
Built by a wildwood bird.

And yet through all our lives our hearts
Cling to this childhood home
Of hallowed, precious memories,
No matter where we roam.

And so I often think about
How dear, how very dear,
Our heavenly home will come to be
With every passing year.

That home where we shall meet and dwell
With loved ones gone before,
And sometimes, looking up, shall see
Our Lord come through the door.

Sweet home, where all our fulfilled joys
Become rich memories,
And ever deeper pleasures crowd
The long eternities!