I can see your house from here

I can see your house from here
(The roof at any rate),
The slates of grey, a lawn, two trees,
A flower-bed, a gate,
Also the houses of your friends,
Featherstone and MacDougall,
Without arising from my chair -
All courtesy of Google.

I waited thirty-seven years
My earliest home to see.
I had to catch a bus, a train,
Then sail across the sea.
It took about ten hours to reach,
Then all that I could do
Was stand and stare upon the front -
The back was hid from view.
I couldn't see my second home
(I hadn't got a car)
But now I type in the address,
And click, and here we are!
Cottages, backyards and sheds
All laid out in a row,
And all around them coloured fields
Whichever way we go.

Sometimes, you know, I worry that
Folks do the same to me,
And home in on my home, and view
The things they shouldn't see.
But there is One who's always watched
Our dwellings from above
And seen us rest and work and play,
And He's a God of love.