Heavy surges sometimes roll;
And we sigh for yonder haven,
For the homeland of the soul.
Blessed homeland, ever fair!
Sin can never enter there;
But the soul, to life awaking,
Everlasting bloom shall wear.
Oft we catch a faint reflection,
Of its bright and vernal* hills;
And, though distant, how we hail it!
How each heart with rapture thrills!
To our Father, and our Savior,
To the Spirit, Three in One,
We shall sing glad songs of triumph
When our harvest work is done.
'Tis the weary pilgrim's homeland,
Where each throbbing care shall cease,
And our longings and our yearnings,
Like a wave, be hushed to peace.
—Fanny Crosby, 1877
*vernal: referring to spring or something spring like
Fanny Crosby (1820-1915) was an American "missioner" (sort of combination social worker and domestic missionary) and hymnwriter/poetess. She was either born blind or became blind as in infant; her account and what modern researchers believe are different. She married a man who was also blind. He insisted she use her maiden name for poetry and hymns. She also wrote some hymns under pseudonyms so that hymnals would not look too skewed in how much of her work they contained.
In reading such work as this, it is amazing that a woman lacking physical sight had such vision.
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