 | Evensong |  |
36
THE MESSAGE
To the house of the widow,
Where she wept alone,
There came a kind woman
To the cold hearthstone.
God touches His own, she said,—
God touches His own.
Where she wept alone,
There came a kind woman
To the cold hearthstone.
God touches His own, she said,—
God touches His own.
Her tears fell so softly
Without sigh or moan:
God touches His own, she said,
'Tis well with His own.
What is grief? What is Death? she said—
God touches His own.
Without sigh or moan:
God touches His own, she said,
'Tis well with His own.
What is grief? What is Death? she said—
God touches His own.
In the desolate Winter day
Ere she was gone
She turned once again to say
At the threshold stone
What is life? What's the world? she said,—
God touches His own.
Ere she was gone
She turned once again to say
At the threshold stone
What is life? What's the world? she said,—
God touches His own.
The wind from over the bogs
Like an echo blown
Brought back the word she had said:
God touches His own.
What is grief? What is Death? she said,—
God touches His own.
Like an echo blown
Brought back the word she had said:
God touches His own.
What is grief? What is Death? she said,—
God touches His own.
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