AWEARY, wounded unto death, -- Unfavored of men's eyes, I have a house not made with hands, Eternal, in the skies. A house where but the steps of faith Through the white light have trod, Steadfast among the mansions of The City of our God. There never shall the sun go down From the lamenting day; There storms shall never rise to beat The light of love away. There living streams through deathless flowers Are flowing free and wide; There souls that thirsted here below Drink, and are satisfied. I know my longing shall be filled When this weak, wasting clay Is folded like a garment from My soul, and laid away. I know it by th' immortal hopes That wrestle down my fear, -- By all the awful mysteries That hide heaven from us here. Oh what a blissful heritage On such as I to fall; Possessed of thee, my Lord and God, I am possessed of all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG MAKER by SARA TEASDALE THE WILLIAM P. FRYE [FEBRUARY 28, 1915] by JEANNE ROBERT FOSTER HIS REQUEST TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK ODE FOR A SOCIAL MEETING, WITH SLIGHT ALTERATIONS BY A TEETOTALER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES |