The Unspoken is not Lost

Solitude is not silent,

Nor isolate,

Nor requiring a fixed cell,

Nor a motionless body;

     But rather,

Though In the world,

Is not Of it

On Leaving Port

From Sharon, CTH

Child of My love, lean hard,

And let me feel the pressure of thy care;

I know thy burden, child. I shaped it;

Poised it in Mine Own hand; made no proportion

In its weight to thine unaided strength,

For even as I laid it on, I said,

“I shall be near, while he leans on Me,

This burden shall be Mine, not his;

So shall I keep My child within the circling arms

Of My Own love.” Here lay it down, nor fear

To impose on a shoulder which upholds

The government of worlds. Yet closer come:

So I might feel My child reposing on my breast.

Thou lovest Me?

I knew it.

Doubt not then; but loving Me, lean hard.