A pick me up....

I'm But a Stranger Here

I'm but a stranger here, Heav'n is my home;

Earth is a desert drear, Heav'n is my home.

Danger and sorrow stand Round me on ev'ry hand;

Heav'n is my fatherland, Heav'n is my home.

 

What though the tempest rage, Heav'n is my home;

Short is my pilgrimage, Heav'n is my home;

And time's wild wintry blast Soon shall be overpast;

I shall reach home at last, Heav'n is my home.

 

Therefore I murmur not, Heav'n is my home;

What e'er my earthly lot, Heav'n is my home;

And I shall surely stand There at my Lord's right hand;

Heav'n is my fatherland, Heav'n is my home.

 

 

This hymn was written by one Thomas Rawson Taylor in the early 1800's.  It recounts for the Christian who mourns and for the Christian who is tired that this earth is not all there is.  Be ever mindful that we dare not attempt or think that we might create heaven on earth.  Our final resting place, for those who believe in Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, is not the grave or this earth.  We however are filled with the same hope of Paul as he writes at the end of Romans 8, "For I am sure that [nothing]...will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

By the way, Mr. Taylor had this figured out sometime before he turned 27.  You see he was born in 1807 and he died in 1835, the poem above was probably written in his mid-20's. 

 

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!