THE HILLS OF HOME

By Malcolm Hemphrey

 

Oh! yon hills are filled with sunlight, and the green leaves paled to gold,

And the smoking mists of Autumn hanging faintly o'er the wold;

I dream of hills of other days whose sides I loved to roam

When Spring was dancing through the lanes of those distant hills of home.

The winds of heaven gathered there as pure and cold as dew;
Wood-sorrel and wild violets along the hedgerows grew,
The blossom on the pear-trees was as white as flakes of foam
In the orchard 'neath the shadow of those distant hills of home.

The first white frost in the meadow will be shining there today

And the furrowed upland glinting warm beside the woodland way;

There, a bright face and a clear hearth will be waiting when I come,

And my heart is throbbing wildly for those distant hills of home.

Editor: The Bible believer, the Christian warrior, is always far from home. Our Master was "at home" with those he loved and ministered to, but he had no home of his own. His eternal abode was at the right hand of God the Father, and we have no idea how it felt for the Son of God to be far from home in the divine realm.

Matthew 8:20 And Jesus saith unto him, The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.

Hebrews 13:13 Let us go forth therefore unto him without the camp, bearing his reproach.
14 For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.

John 14:2 In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.
3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

Our next stop is death, and then-- with the Lord and home forever. Let us not spend too much time longing for past pleasant places.

______________________________

The world's most heart rending war song:

  Andy Stewart- A SCOTTISH SOLDIER

There are no sadder songs than war songs sung far from home. For the Bible believer, lonely and aged, battered by the warfare with principalities and powers and spiritual wickedness, there IS a way home. How thankful we should be that we can sing of going Home to be with our Lord. Much as I love the Hill Country of Texas, this is not my last stop, and, as time passes, I find that I think more and more about the green hills, the River of Life, the glassy sea, and much more which is waiting my over yonder.

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