The earth is not my home,
Nor any special land.
Though my heart beats strong
In many places,
In lands where I know many faces —
Still, none can I call home.
Heaven is my home,
Though it I’ve never seen,
Except, when the Creator set
My soul upon earth’s scene.
Heaven is my home,
Seen only in my dreams,
Through mists of time,
Through clouds sublime,
In half-heard tunes
Under bright-lit moons,
In sideways glances
And angels’ dances.
And so, when I go home,
I hope you’ll soon come, too;
On angels’ wings, as choirs sing —
We’ll all be finally home.
clarakatalin 
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