Always At Home


On Sunday I go visiting... And walk right in the door...
Where I am always certain that... A welcome is in store... I
do not have to knock or ring... Or telephone ahead... Or feel
despair for anything... That I have done or said... Because it
is the House of God... Where I go visiting... And where my
soul is filled with peace... In prayer and worshipping... My
God is never "not at home"... But He is always there... To
comfort and encourage me... And lighten every care... As
long as I regret my sins... And I sincerely pray... With faith in
Him to help me live... The true and only way.


James J. Metcalfe

This poem is on page 168 of More Poem Portraits by James J. Metcalfe

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