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| II. |
 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
The Spirit's Longings.
When the loveliest flowers are waking,
Whispering thoughts of silent joy,
And the lark, his nest forsaking,
Carols in the beaming sky;
When her mantle Beauty flings
Over Nature's gladsome things:
Yet the soul it doth not fill,
Something seeks it fairer still.
Whispering thoughts of silent joy,
And the lark, his nest forsaking,
Carols in the beaming sky;
When her mantle Beauty flings
Over Nature's gladsome things:
Yet the soul it doth not fill,
Something seeks it fairer still.
When the crystal streams are glancing
From the Fount of Poesy,
Mingling with the all-entrancing
Sweetness of calm melody:
When the spirit, thirsting long,
Feels the wondrous power of song,
Yet it yearns for something more,
Something which may be in store.
From the Fount of Poesy,
Mingling with the all-entrancing
Sweetness of calm melody:
When the spirit, thirsting long,
Feels the wondrous power of song,
Yet it yearns for something more,
Something which may be in store.
When the heart is warmly glowing
Toward the dearest ones around,
And, with joyous love o'erflowing,
Fancies happiness is found,
Softly hushing noisy mirth,
Finds the purest joy of earth;
Even then it must aspire,
Ever seeking something higher.
Toward the dearest ones around,
176
Fancies happiness is found,
Softly hushing noisy mirth,
Finds the purest joy of earth;
Even then it must aspire,
Ever seeking something higher.
When the weary spirit turneth
From the dark low earth away,
And with contrite sorrow mourneth
Till the shadows flee away;
When the soul on Jesus' breast
Sinks in lowly peaceful rest,—
Then its yearnings all are stilled,
And with perfect bliss 'tis filled.
From the dark low earth away,
And with contrite sorrow mourneth
Till the shadows flee away;
When the soul on Jesus' breast
Sinks in lowly peaceful rest,—
Then its yearnings all are stilled,
And with perfect bliss 'tis filled.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |