Josiah Gilbert Holland (1819–1881)

I HASTEN homeward, through the gathering night,

Tow’rd the dear ones who in expectance sweet

Await the coming of my weary feet,

With faces in the hearth-fire glowing bright,

And please my heart with many a lovely sight

Of way-worn neighbors, stepping from the street

Through doors thrown wide, and bursts of light that greet

Their entrance, painting all their paths with white;

And then I think, with a great thrill of bliss,

That all the world, and all of life it brings,

Tell me true tales of other realms than this,

As faithful types of spiritual things;

And so I know that home’s rewarding kiss

Insures the hope of heaven that in me springs.