Bloomington herald. [volume] (Bloomington, I. T. [Iowa]) 1840-1849, 1845-01-24
NOME.
"Home, thy joys are passing lovely
JOYS no stranger heart can tell.


What charm rests upon the endear-
ing name-my home consecrated by 40
nestle love--lhat golden key of earthly
happiness Without This, home would
be like temple stripped of its garlands F.;
here father welcomes, with fond affection
a brothers. kind sympathies comfort in the
hour Of distress, and assist In every trial;
there pious mother first taught the infant
lips to lisp the name of Jesus; and there
loved sister dwells, the companion OF
early days.
Truly, if there is aught that is lovely
here below, it is home-sweet home IL
is like the oasis Of the desert. The pass
ing of our days may be painful-our path
may be checke:ed with sorrow and care
unkindness and frowns may withef the
joyousness of the heart, efface the happy
smiles from the brow, and bedew lies
way with tears-yet, when the memory
hovers over the past, there is no place up
on which it delights to linger, as the love
ed scenes Of childhood's home! It's the
| polar star of existence. What cheers the
mariner when far away from his native
land in foreign port or, tossed upon the
bounding pillows, as he PAGES the deck
lone at midnight, what thoughts I'LL HI
breast! He is thinking of the loved one
far away a, his own happy cottage; in his
minds eye he sees the smiling group
seated around the cheerful Preside. In
imagination, he hears them uniting their
voices in singing the sweet songs which
he loves. He iz anticipating the hour
| when he shall return to his native land, TO
greet those absent ones, so dear to his
heart.
Why rests that deep shade Of sorrow
upon the strangers brow as he seats him
self amid the family circle! He is sur
rounded by all the luxuries that wealth
can afford; happy faces gather round him.
and strive in vain to win smile. An )!
he is thinking of his own swee, home. of
the loved ones assembled in his own cheer
full cot.
Why those tears that steal down the
cheeks o: the young and lovely girl. as
she minges in the social circle! Alas
she is an orphan; she, too, had happy
home bu, that house is now forsaken and
desola.e its loved ones are now sleeping
| in the cold and silent tomb. The gentle
mother who watched over her infancy. q
| hushed hertz sleep with lula5aby, Which
mother only can sing who in girl-hood
days taught her Of the Saviour, and tuned
her youthful voice to sipg praise TO his
name-has gone TO the mansions ofjoy a
bove, and is singing her songs and tuning
her golden harp with bright angels in heav.
en-. Poor one! She is now left to tread
the Ihorny path of life, lonely, homeless
wandcrer.
Thus it is in this changing world. The
objects most dear are snalched away
We are deprived of the friends whom we
most love, and our cherishing home is rem
dered drear and desolate. Passing a.
way is engrayen on all things earthly
But there is home that knows no chan~
ges. where separations never take place,
where the sorrowing ones of this world
may obtain relief from all their griefs, and
where the signs and tears of this earth are
exchanged for amending songs of joy
That home is found In heaven.
In the shadowy past, there is one sweet
Renaissance which the storms Of life can
never wither; it is the recollection OF
home-of heavenly home.-Musical
Visitor.