Visiting one of our older members early in my Ministry, I was drawn to her kitchen notice board with reminders all over it; but in a prominent position there was pinned a copy of this poem. It had been there for weeks, or months maybe years and many’s the time I’ve stopped since and read it. I suppose I should know it’s by heart by now, but I don’t; but each time I read it I found it so full of meaning so I borrowed it and had a copy made. It came to light recently while I was reorganizing my study and would like to share it with you.
As our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ said in that well-known passage from 14th chapter of John, he has gone to prepare a place for us in heaven. I certainly don’t feel worthy of a mansion but perhaps there might be something small in a side street . Oh! The thrill is to be with the Lord Jesus Christ and to meet our heavenly Father.
“This earthly house” by Beth Coombe Harris
You tell me I’m getting old, but that’s not really so,the house I live in may be worn and that of course I know.
It’s been in use a good long while and weathered many a gale,I’m therefore not surprised to find it is getting somewhat frail.
You tell me I’m getting old, you mix my house with me;you’re looking at the outside, that’s all that most folks see.
The dweller in this little house is young and bright and gay,just starting on a life that lasts through long, eternal day.
The colour changing on the roof, the windows looking dim,the walls a bit transparent and getting rather thin.
The foundation is not so steady as once it used to be and that is all that you observe, but it’s not really me.
I patch the old bit to make it last the night, but soon I shall be flitting to my home of endless light.
I’m going to live for ever there, my life goes on, it’s grand; how can you say I’m getting old? You do not understand.
These few short years, can’t make me old, I feel I’m in my youth, eternity lies just ahead, full of life and joy and truth.
We will not fret to see this house grow shabby day by day, but look ahead to our new Home which never will decay.
I want to be made fit to dwell in that blessed house above, cleansed with the precious blood of Christ and growing still in love.
The beauty of that glorious home, no words can ever say, ’tis hidden from these mortal eyes, but kept for us someday.
My house is getting ready in the land beyond the sky, its architect and builder is my Saviour now on high;
But I rather think he’s leaving the furnishing to me, so it’s “treasure up in heaven” I must store each day you see.