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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
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Maker of heaven and earth, father of me,
My words are but a weak, fantastic moan!
Were I a land-leaf drifting on the sea,
Thou still wert with me; I were not alone!
I am in thee, O father, lord of sky,
And lord of waves, and lord of human souls!
In thee all precious ones to me more nigh
Than if they rushing came in radiant shoals!
I shall not be alone although I die,
And loved ones should delay their coming long;
Though I saw round me nought but sea and sky,
Bare sea and sky would wake a holy song.
They are thy garments; thou art near within,
Father of fathers, friend-creating friend!
Thou art for ever, therefore I begin;
Thou lov'st, therefore my love shall never end!
Let loose thy giving, father, on thy child;
I pray thee, father, give me everything;
Give me the joy that makes the children wild;
Give throat and heart an old new song to sing.
Ye are my joy, great father, perfect Christ,
And humble men of heart, oh, everywhere!
With all the true I keep a hoping tryst;
Eternal love is my eternal prayer.
1890.
A FATHER TO A MOTHER
When God's own child came down to earth,
High heaven was very glad;
The angels sang for holy mirth;
Not God himself was sad!
Shall we, when ours goes homeward, fret?
Come, Hope, and wait on Sorrow!
The little one will not forget;
It's only till to-morrow!
THE TEMPLE OF GOD
In the desert by the bush,
Moses to his heart said Hush.
David on his bed did pray;
God all night went not away.
From his heap of ashes foul
Job to God did lift his soul,
God came down to see him there,
And to answer all his prayer.
On a dark hill, in the wind,
Jesus did his father find,
But while he on earth did fare,
Every spot was place of prayer;
And where man is any day,
God can not be far away.
But the place he loveth best,
Place where he himself can rest,
Where alone he prayer doth seek,
Is the spirit of the meek.
To the humble God doth come;
In his heart he makes his home.
GOING TO SLEEP
Little one, you must not fret
That I take your clothes away;
Better sleep you so will get,
And at morning wake more gay—
Saith the children's mother.
You I must unclothe again,
For you need a better dress;
Too much worn are body and brain;
You need everlastingness—
Saith the heavenly father.
I went down death's lonely stair;
Laid my garments in the tomb;
Dressed again one morning fair;
Hastened up, and hied me home—
Saith the elder brother.
Then I will not be afraid
Any ill can come to me;
When 'tis time to go to bed,
My words are but a weak, fantastic moan!
Were I a land-leaf drifting on the sea,
Thou still wert with me; I were not alone!
I am in thee, O father, lord of sky,
And lord of waves, and lord of human souls!
In thee all precious ones to me more nigh
Than if they rushing came in radiant shoals!
I shall not be alone although I die,
And loved ones should delay their coming long;
Though I saw round me nought but sea and sky,
Bare sea and sky would wake a holy song.
They are thy garments; thou art near within,
Father of fathers, friend-creating friend!
Thou art for ever, therefore I begin;
Thou lov'st, therefore my love shall never end!
Let loose thy giving, father, on thy child;
I pray thee, father, give me everything;
Give me the joy that makes the children wild;
Give throat and heart an old new song to sing.
Ye are my joy, great father, perfect Christ,
And humble men of heart, oh, everywhere!
With all the true I keep a hoping tryst;
Eternal love is my eternal prayer.
1890.
A FATHER TO A MOTHER
When God's own child came down to earth,
High heaven was very glad;
The angels sang for holy mirth;
Not God himself was sad!
Shall we, when ours goes homeward, fret?
Come, Hope, and wait on Sorrow!
The little one will not forget;
It's only till to-morrow!
THE TEMPLE OF GOD
In the desert by the bush,
Moses to his heart said Hush.
David on his bed did pray;
God all night went not away.
From his heap of ashes foul
Job to God did lift his soul,
God came down to see him there,
And to answer all his prayer.
On a dark hill, in the wind,
Jesus did his father find,
But while he on earth did fare,
Every spot was place of prayer;
And where man is any day,
God can not be far away.
But the place he loveth best,
Place where he himself can rest,
Where alone he prayer doth seek,
Is the spirit of the meek.
To the humble God doth come;
In his heart he makes his home.
GOING TO SLEEP
Little one, you must not fret
That I take your clothes away;
Better sleep you so will get,
And at morning wake more gay—
Saith the children's mother.
You I must unclothe again,
For you need a better dress;
Too much worn are body and brain;
You need everlastingness—
Saith the heavenly father.
I went down death's lonely stair;
Laid my garments in the tomb;
Dressed again one morning fair;
Hastened up, and hied me home—
Saith the elder brother.
Then I will not be afraid
Any ill can come to me;
When 'tis time to go to bed,
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
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