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 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Thinking together, or Gravitation.
Of what are you thinking now, dear,
Now that good-night is said,
Now that the children's eyes are shut,
And the stars shine out instead;
Now that the far church-clock sounds near,
For the world is all so still,
And the cottage twinkle has long gone out
On the slope of the fir-crowned hill?
Now that good-night is said,
Now that the children's eyes are shut,
And the stars shine out instead;
Now that the far church-clock sounds near,
For the world is all so still,
And the cottage twinkle has long gone out
On the slope of the fir-crowned hill?
Of what are you thinking now, dear?
Could a thought-flash reach me here,
The message would not surprise me,
But only strengthen and cheer.
For love has told it already,
That seer so bold and true!
I know you are thinking of me, dear,
For I am thinking of you.
Could a thought-flash reach me here,
The message would not surprise me,
But only strengthen and cheer.
338
That seer so bold and true!
I know you are thinking of me, dear,
For I am thinking of you.
I know you are thinking of me, dear,
For the whirl of the day hath ceased,
The circling force is spent at last,
And our spirits are released;
And heart to heart hath swiftly turned
After the lonely strife,
For each is the centre of each, dear,
By the law of our truest life.
For the whirl of the day hath ceased,
The circling force is spent at last,
And our spirits are released;
And heart to heart hath swiftly turned
After the lonely strife,
For each is the centre of each, dear,
By the law of our truest life.
We have but one other thought, dear,
In these quiet, restful hours,
And that is of Him whose love is twined
In a threefold cord with ours.
So you are thinking of me, dear,
And I am thinking of you,
And He is thinking of us both:
Is it not sweet and true?
In these quiet, restful hours,
And that is of Him whose love is twined
In a threefold cord with ours.
So you are thinking of me, dear,
And I am thinking of you,
And He is thinking of us both:
Is it not sweet and true?
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |