"My heart to-day
Is strangely full of home!
How is it
With the dear ones over there?
Five years!
Five long-drawn years!
And one short moment is enough
To alter life's complexion for eternity!
Home! Home! Home!

* * * * *

How is it with you all
At Home?

* * * * *

And you, my dearest one,
Are ever nearer to me than the rest!
Your body lies
Beneath the baobab
In far Shapanga;
But your soul is ever nearest
When I need you most.
Where a man's treasure is
His heart is.
And half my heart is buried there with you,
And half works on for Africa.
Home! Home! Home!

* * * * *

Why should such thought of home
Drag at my heart to-day?
Why should I longer roam?
Why should I not go home?
Five years of toilsome wanderings
May claim a rest!

* * * * *

Nay! God knows best!
When He sees well
He'll take me home and give me well-earned rest.
The work is not yet done.
This land of Night
Is not yet fully opened to the Son
And His fair Light.
But—when the work is done—
Ah—then!—how gladly will I go—
Home!—Home—Home!—
To rest!"