Homewards
From day to day, the golden sun
His chariot ne’er restraineth,
From night to night the pale white moon
Now waxeth and now waneth,
From hour to hour the bright stars turn
In distances unending,
And all the mighty works of God,
Are ever homeward tending.
The tiny streamlet on the hill
Its wandering way pursueth,
The mighty river far below
Adown the valley floweth,
The winds roam ever in the sky,
The clouds are onward driving,
And towards some quiet shore—at home
The raging sea is striving.