“GOOD-NIGHT, Beloved,” I softly cry

Across the chill immensity,

The unmeasurable star-hung space

Which hides the smiling of thy face.

The echoless air is all unstirred,

But yet I feel that thou hast heard,

Somehow, somewhere, the old-time word,

And smiled, perhaps, that I should say

“Good-night,” when all with thee is Day.

“Good-night, Beloved,”—for near and far

And separate and together are

But mortal phrases, little worth

Except in the dull speech of earth,

The ignorant speech which doubts and fears.

God is the sun of all the spheres,

The source and centre of our years.

Our little lives, so brief, so dim,

Are only lit when lit by him.

His ear can catch the lightest call

Who heedeth even the sparrow’s fall;

As clear to him the sobbing prayer

Of grief, as heavenly praises are

When angels veil their eyes and bow.

Through him I reach to thee, and thou

Through him art nearer to me now

Than in the days of lost delight

When each to each could say, “Good-night.”

Oh, comfort of the sorrowing heart!

Where’er I am, where’er thou art,

Linked in this heavenly unison

We still are near, we still are one!

God is our meeting-place and goal,

The safe, sure shelter of the soul.

Let the wide heavens between us roll;

Still fearlessly, though out of sight,

I still may say, “Beloved, good-night.”