Some little dwelling, Lord, where I may rest
From stress of error domiciled with Thee;
Where, howsoever small or frail, my best
To others may be giv'n ungrudgingly.
Some gilded mansion claims me? Even there,
Amid its pomp and unreality,
I may then precious golden hours spare
To cheer a brother's gloom and bide with Thee.
And should I wander? Far o'er land and sea,
No matter how or wheresoe'er I roam,
Thy love that fills the earth and heaven will be
All that I need, all that I want—my home.
