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 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
276
Stars.
The golden glow is paling
Between the cloudy bars;
I'm watching in the twilight
To see the little stars.
I wish that they would sing to-night
Their song of long ago;
If we were only nearer them,
What might we hear and know!
Between the cloudy bars;
I'm watching in the twilight
To see the little stars.
I wish that they would sing to-night
Their song of long ago;
If we were only nearer them,
What might we hear and know!
Are they the eyes of Angels,
That always wake to keep
A loving watch above us,
While we are fast asleep?
Or are they lamps that God has lit
From His own glorious light,
To guide the little children's souls
Whom He will call to-night?
That always wake to keep
A loving watch above us,
While we are fast asleep?
Or are they lamps that God has lit
From His own glorious light,
To guide the little children's souls
Whom He will call to-night?
We hardly see them twinkle
In any summer night,
But in the winter evenings
They sparkle clear and bright.
Is this to tell the little ones,
So hungry, cold, and sad,
That there's a shining home for them,
Where all is warm and glad?
In any summer night,
But in the winter evenings
They sparkle clear and bright.
Is this to tell the little ones,
So hungry, cold, and sad,
That there's a shining home for them,
Where all is warm and glad?
277
More beautiful and glorious,
And never cold and far,
Is He who always loves them,
The Bright and Morning Star.
I wish those little children knew
That holy, happy light!
Lord Jesus, shine on them, I pray,
And make them glad to-night.
And never cold and far,
Is He who always loves them,
The Bright and Morning Star.
I wish those little children knew
That holy, happy light!
Lord Jesus, shine on them, I pray,
And make them glad to-night.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |