The Shrine Of The Old Home
Home! Home! As we kneel at thy time-hallowed shrine,
Our hearts’ purest incense for aye shall be thine;
For our early-breathed vows, and our childhood’s young prayer,
And our hearts’ dearest wishes are all centered there.
A light from this altar around us is shed,
To guide us in safety, wherever we tread;
Like the moon’s gentle lustre, it beams on the eye,
Shining purest and brightest when danger is nigh.
Oh, never, till life’s golden sunlight shall set,
Can we the loved home of our childhood forget,
But faithful remembrance to rapture shall swell,
As it rests on the spot where our cherished ones dwell.
And thus may the magic which breathes round our home
Still guide, as ‘mid life’s varied pathway we roam,
‘Till we reach the bright shore where the freed soul may rest,
The land of the faithful, the home of the blest.
—Mary W. Hale.
Thanksgiving
O God we thank Thee for everything.
For the sea and its waves, blue, green and gray, and always wonderful.
For the beach and the breakers and the spray and the white foam on the rocks.
For the blue arch of heaven, for the clouds of the sky, white and gray and purple.
For the green grass, for the forests in their spring beauty, for the wheat and corn, rye and barley.
For the brown earth turned up by the plow, for the sun by day, and the dews by night;
We thank thee for all Thou hast made and that Thou hast called it good.
For all the glory and beauty and wonder of the world.
—Edward E. Hale.
Alternate Reading: John 8:12-20.