Home
Longing fills my soul, thinking of Papa smiling over me,
Waiting at the cottage door earnestly,
Oh, I long to be caught in His gaze as I wander so far from home,
I look up at the moon and dream that You see it too.
Dawns the sunlight reflected on the birches in the morn’
Like the warmth of coming home into Your arms
Like a river glorious pours Your love into my yearning soul,
And now I know my home is in You;
You are my home, You are my home.
Foxes have holes, it was said, but You had nowhere to lay Your head,
I would follow You anywhere, and oh, rest Your head in my heart,
I sit here like Little Orphan Annie gazing out the window,
Saying “Maybe, Maybe”—“Won’t You come get Your baby?”
Dawns the sunlight reflected on the birches in the morn’
Like the warmth of coming home into Your arms
Like a river glorious pours Your love into my yearning soul,
And now I know my home is in You;
You are my home, You are my home.
Sometimes I cry “Lord, I want to go home!”
But You’re right here,
Knocking at my heart’s door.
I thought I had to search for home,
But it was right here inside me all along;
It’s not where I am that takes me home,
It’s where You are.
So I lift my gaze up to the hills and the aspens among the snow
As the darkness vanishes swallowed by the Day
Dawns the sunlight reflected on the birches in the morn’
Like the warmth of coming home into Your arms
Like a river glorious pours Your love into my yearning soul,
And now I know my home is in You;
You are my home, You are my Home.
Copyright 2009 by Brietta Kiele. All rights reserved.
Waiting at the cottage door earnestly,
Oh, I long to be caught in His gaze as I wander so far from home,
I look up at the moon and dream that You see it too.
Dawns the sunlight reflected on the birches in the morn’
Like the warmth of coming home into Your arms
Like a river glorious pours Your love into my yearning soul,
And now I know my home is in You;
You are my home, You are my home.
Foxes have holes, it was said, but You had nowhere to lay Your head,
I would follow You anywhere, and oh, rest Your head in my heart,
I sit here like Little Orphan Annie gazing out the window,
Saying “Maybe, Maybe”—“Won’t You come get Your baby?”
Dawns the sunlight reflected on the birches in the morn’
Like the warmth of coming home into Your arms
Like a river glorious pours Your love into my yearning soul,
And now I know my home is in You;
You are my home, You are my home.
Sometimes I cry “Lord, I want to go home!”
But You’re right here,
Knocking at my heart’s door.
I thought I had to search for home,
But it was right here inside me all along;
It’s not where I am that takes me home,
It’s where You are.
So I lift my gaze up to the hills and the aspens among the snow
As the darkness vanishes swallowed by the Day
Dawns the sunlight reflected on the birches in the morn’
Like the warmth of coming home into Your arms
Like a river glorious pours Your love into my yearning soul,
And now I know my home is in You;
You are my home, You are my Home.
Copyright 2009 by Brietta Kiele. All rights reserved.