Classic Poem

Lord , when I find at last Thy Paradise,
Be it not all too bright for human eyes,
Lest I go sick for home through the high mirth —
For Thy new Heaven, Lord, give me new earth.

Give of Thy mansions, Lord, a house so small
Where they can come to me who were my all;
Let them run home to me just as of yore,
Glad to sit down with me and go out no more.

Give me a garden, Lord, and a low hill,
A field and a babbling brook that is not still;
Give me an orchard, Lord, in leaf and bloom,
And my birds to sing to me in a quiet gloom.

There shall no canker be in leaf or bud,
But glory on hill and sea and the green wood;
There, there shall none grow old but all be new,
No moth or rust shall fret nor thief break through.

Set thou a mist upon Thy glorious sun;
Lest we should faint for night and be undone;
Give us the high clean wind and the wild rain,
Lest that we faint with thirst and go in pain.

Let there be Winter there and the joy of Spring,
Summer and Autumn and the harvesting;
Give us all things we loved on earth of old,
Never to slip from out our clinging hold.

Give me a little house for my desire,
The man and the children to sit by my fire,
And friends to be crowding in to our lit hearth —
For Thy new Heaven, Lord, give me new earth!