Of all the houses in the world
The one that I love best
Is that in which I wake and play
And lay me down to rest.
My father built it by his toil;
My mother makes it home;
You cannot find a lovelier place
No matter where you roam.
The rooms are clean and bright and fair
With pictures, books, and toys,
And food, and clothes, and beds, and chairs
For all the girls and boys. .
We children work and care for it,
And help to keep it clean,
Our palace of true happiness,
Where mother reigns as queen,
And father guards us with his strength,
A wise and gracious king,
To whom we pay the honor due,
And glad obedience bring.
So full of love and joy it is,
So safe and bright and warm,
I would not go too far from it
Lest I should come to harm.
And yet when I go out of doors
And look up at the sky,
I know I'm in my lather's house,
And that His love is nigh.
For God is Father—Mother, too!
The world is my big home;
The green grass is the carpet,
And the blue sky is the dome.
On every side are pictures;
The fields are full of food;
And all the things that God has made
Are beautiful and good.
He keeps me by His mighty power,
He loves me as His child;
His paths are bright with happiness,
His laws are just and mild.
And all His children in this house,
So wonderful and fair,
Should love each other, learn His truth,
And trust His love and care.
I thank thee, Father, for these homes,
Where we may dwell with Thee,
And cast out fear, and share the joys
Thou givest full and free.
—HENRY HALLAM TWEEDY.
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High
Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
For Thou, O Lord, art my refuge!
Thou hast made the Most High thy habitation.
—Psalm xci. 1, 9.