By Eliza And Sarah Wolcott

Home has a thousand pleasing bands,
A thousand charms are there;
At home we form our wisest plans,
And all our schemes prepare.
Home is a safe, a calm retreat,
To rest the weary soul;
Home makes one’s happiness complete,
Where love commands the whole.
At home, congenial souls we find,
We breathe in native air;
At home our thoughts are unconfin’d,—
Security is there.
Deception finds no place at home,
No false or vain applause;
Thrice blessed home! ah, who would roam
Without a powerful cause.
Some lose their sympathies abroad,
By fashion’s changing laws;
Some lose their Bible, and their God,
And never know the cause.
But some remember home at last,
Where first they lisp’d a prayer;
And beg for pardon for the past,
And now the promise share.

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