The far-away home of the soul,
Where no storms can beat on the glittering strand,
While the years of eternity roll.
O, that home of the soul, in my visions and dreams,
Its bright jasper walls I can see;
Till I fancy but thinly the veil intervenes
Between the fair city and me.”
“The car was a wakeful hush long before she had ended; it was as if a beautiful spirit were floating through the air. None that heard will ever forget. Philip Phillips can never bring that ‘home of the soul’ any nearer to anybody. And never, I think, was quite so sweet a voice lifted in a storm of a November night on the rolling plains of Iowa.”
In an autograph copy of her hymn, sent to the editor, Mrs. Gates changes “harps” to “palms.” Is it an improvement? “Palms” is a word of two meanings.
O how sweet it will be in that beautiful land,