Daily Globe

Going Home.

Where are you going so fast, old man?
Where are you going so fast?
There's a valley to cross and a river to ford,
There's a clasp of the hand and a parting word,
And a tremulous sigh for the past, old man--
The beautiful, vanished past.

The road has been rugged and rough, old man;
To your feet it's rugged and rough;
But you see a dear being with gentle eyes
Has shared your labor and sacrifice.
Ah! that has been sunshine enough, old man--
For you and me sunshine, enough.

How long since you passed o'er the hill, old man,
Of life? o'er the top of the hill?
Were there beautiful valleys on the other side?
Were there flowers and trees, with their branches wide,
To shut off the heat of the sun, old man,
That heat of the feverish sun?

And how did you cross the waves, old man,
Of sorrow, the fearful waves?
Did you lay your dear treasures by, one by one,
With an aching heart and "God's will be done,"
Under the wayside dust, old man;
In the grave 'neath the wayside dust:

There is sorrow and labor for all, old man;
Alas! there is sorrow for all;
And you, peradventure, have had your share,
For eighty long winters have whitened your hair:
And they've whitened your heart as well, old man--
Thank God, your heart as well.

You're now at the foot of the hill, old man;
At last at the foot of the hill,
The sun has gone down in golden glow,
And the Heavenly City lies just below.
Going through the pearly gate, old man--
The beautiful pearly gate.