THE PATH THAT LEADS TO HOME

The little path that leads to home,

That is the road for me,

I know no finer path to roam,

With finer sights to see.

With thoroughfares the world is lined

That lead to wonders new,

But he who treads them leaves behind

The tender things and true.

Oh, north and south and east and west

The crowded roadways go,

And sweating brow and weary breast

Are all they seem to know.

And mad for pleasure some are bent,

And some are seeking fame,

And some are sick with discontent,

And some are bruised and lame.

Across the world the gleaming steel

Holds out its lure for men,

But no one finds his comfort real

Till he comes home again.

And charted lanes now line the sea

For weary hearts to roam,

But, Oh, the finest path to me

Is that which leads to home.

‘ Tis there I come to laughing eyes

And find a welcome true;

‘ Tis there all care behind me lies

And joy is ever new.

And, Oh, when every day is done

Upon that little street,

A pair of rosy youngsters run

To me with flying feet.

The world with myriad paths is lined

But one alone for me,

One little road where I may find

The charms I want to see.

Though thoroughfares majestic call

The multitude to roam,

I would not leave, to know them all,

The path that leads to home.