The Lambertville press. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1858-1???, 1860-10-24
gabbath Sending,
joys of Home.
Home, thy joys are passing lovely,
Joys no stranger heart can tell. /"

Joys no stranger heart can tell
What charm rests upon the en-
dearing name-my home consecrated
by domestic love the golden key of
human happiness. Without this, home
would be like temple stripped of its
garlands. There father welcomes
with fond affection brothers kind
sympathies comfort in the hour Of dis
tress, 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 COM
panion Of early days.
Truly, if there is aught that is love-
ly here below, it is home, sweet homel
1t is like the oasis of the desert. The
passing of eur days may be painful;
our path may be checkered by sorrow
and care; unkindness and frowns may
wither the joyousness Of the heart, Of
face the happy smiles from the brow,
and bedew life's pathway with tears,
yet when the memory hovers over the
past, there is no place in which it 80
delights to linger, as the loved scene
of childhood's home It is the polar
star of existSnce What cheers the
mariner, far away from his native land
in foreign port, or tossed upon the
bounding pillows, as be PAGES the deck
at midnight alone-what thoughis fill
his breast? He is thinking of the
loved ones far away at his own happy
cottage in his minds eye he sees the
smiling group seated around the cheer
FIJI Preside; in Imagination he hears
them uniting their 'oices in singing
the sweet songs that he loves. He is
anticipating the hour when he shall
return to his native land; to greet
those absent ones so dear to his heart.
Why rests that deeH shade of sad
ness on the strangers brow, as he
seats himself amid the family circle 2
He is surrounded by all the Injuries
that wealth can afford happy faces
gather around him, and try in vain to
win smile All ! be is thinking of
his own sweet home, Of the loved ones
assembled in his own cheerful cot
Why those tears zhich steal down
the cheeks Of that young and lovely
girl as she -ningles in the social circle?
All 4! she is an orphan; she too, had
happy home, its loved ones are now
sleeping in the cold and silent tomb
The gentle mother who watched over
her infancy, and hushed her to sleep
with lullaby, which a mother only
can sing, who, ia her girlhood's days,
taught her CT the Saviour, and tuned
her youthful voice to sing praises to
His name, has gone to the mansions
of joy above, and is mingling her songs
and tuneing her golden harp with
bright angels in heaven. Poor one
She is now left to thread the weary
path of life, lonely, homeless wander
er.
Thus it is in this changing world
The objects most dear are snatehed
away. Passin away" is engraved
on all things earthly. But there is a
home which knows no change, whore
separations never take place, where the
sorrowing ones of this world may OBJ
tain relief fer al. their griefs, and
where the signs and tears of earth are
exchanged for unending songs of joy.
This home is found in heaven
In the shadowy past, there is one
sweet Renaissance which the storm of
life can never witber it is the recol-
lection of home. In the visioned fu-
ture, there is one bright star whose
luStre never fades; it is the hope of
home-of a -eaveniy home.