The Heart of Love

I know a place warm-sheltered from the world—A place secure, in mild conditions blest,Where fainting Toil, the homespun banner furled,May pause awhile and rest:I know a place where fires burn late,And mercy, waiting at the gate,Still welcomes the oppress'd!

I know a shrine more rich than Plutus' fane,An altar fragrant with celestial dew,Where wavering souls their virgin faiths regainAnd energies renew.I know a garden fair and free,Where life yet wears, unfadingly,Lost Eden's roseate hue!