See original poem by Daniel Whitehead Hicky
No intimacy with the deeps of stars
Or meteors can mortal beings know.
Though engines lift this dusty flesh of ours
Through air, to heaven’s shores they cannot go.
I know my Lord prepares my home on high,
Fair beyond even skies of purest light,
Meanwhile, though I may be glad to fly,
I’ll be content on firm ground to alight.