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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
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Upon the sea of glass;
To know that, of a sinful world,
I one was saved as well;
My roll of ill with theirs upfurled,
And cast in deepest hell;
That God looked bounteously on one,
Because on many men;
As shone Judea's earthly sun
On all the healed ten.
No; thou must be a God to me
As if but me were none;
I such a perfect child to thee
As if thou hadst but one.
XXII
Oh, then, my Father, hast thou not
A blessing just for me?
Shall I be, barely, not forgot?—
Never come home to thee?
Hast thou no care for this one child,
This thinking, living need?
Or is thy countenance only mild,
Thy heart not love indeed?
For some eternal joy I pray,
To make me strong and free;
Yea, such a friend I need alway
As thou alone canst be.
Is not creative infinitude
Able, in every man,
To turn itself to every mood
Since God man's life began?
Art thou not each man's God—his own,
With secret words between,
As thou and he lived all alone,
Insphered in silence keen?
Ah, God, my heart is not the same
As any heart beside;
My pain is different, and my blame,
My pity and my pride!
My history thou know'st, my thoughts
Different from other men's;
Thou knowest all the sheep and goats
That mingle in my pens.
Thou knowest I a love might bring
By none beside me due;
One praiseful song at least might sing
Which could not but be new.
XXIII
Nor seek I thus to stand apart,
In aught my kind above;
My neighbour, ah, my troubled heart
Must rest ere thee it love!
If God love not, I have no care,
No power to love, no hope.
What is life here or anywhere?
Or why with darkness cope?
I scorn my own love's every sign,
So feeble, selfish, low,
If his love give no pledge that mine
Shall one day perfect grow.
But if I knew Thy love even such,
As tender and intense
As, tested by its human touch,
Would satisfy my sense
Of what a father never was
But should be to his son,
My heart would leap for joy, because
My rescue was begun.
Oh then my love, by thine set free,
Would overflow thy men;
In every face my heart would see
God shining out again!
There are who hold high festival
And at the board crown Death:
I am too weak to live at all
Except I breathe thy breath.
Show me a love that nothing bates,
Absolute, self-severe—
Even at Gehenna's prayerless gates
I should not "taint with fear."
To know that, of a sinful world,
I one was saved as well;
My roll of ill with theirs upfurled,
And cast in deepest hell;
That God looked bounteously on one,
Because on many men;
As shone Judea's earthly sun
On all the healed ten.
No; thou must be a God to me
As if but me were none;
I such a perfect child to thee
As if thou hadst but one.
XXII
Oh, then, my Father, hast thou not
A blessing just for me?
Shall I be, barely, not forgot?—
Never come home to thee?
Hast thou no care for this one child,
This thinking, living need?
Or is thy countenance only mild,
Thy heart not love indeed?
For some eternal joy I pray,
To make me strong and free;
Yea, such a friend I need alway
As thou alone canst be.
Is not creative infinitude
Able, in every man,
To turn itself to every mood
Since God man's life began?
Art thou not each man's God—his own,
With secret words between,
As thou and he lived all alone,
Insphered in silence keen?
Ah, God, my heart is not the same
As any heart beside;
My pain is different, and my blame,
My pity and my pride!
My history thou know'st, my thoughts
Different from other men's;
Thou knowest all the sheep and goats
That mingle in my pens.
Thou knowest I a love might bring
By none beside me due;
One praiseful song at least might sing
Which could not but be new.
XXIII
Nor seek I thus to stand apart,
In aught my kind above;
My neighbour, ah, my troubled heart
Must rest ere thee it love!
If God love not, I have no care,
No power to love, no hope.
What is life here or anywhere?
Or why with darkness cope?
I scorn my own love's every sign,
So feeble, selfish, low,
If his love give no pledge that mine
Shall one day perfect grow.
But if I knew Thy love even such,
As tender and intense
As, tested by its human touch,
Would satisfy my sense
Of what a father never was
But should be to his son,
My heart would leap for joy, because
My rescue was begun.
Oh then my love, by thine set free,
Would overflow thy men;
In every face my heart would see
God shining out again!
There are who hold high festival
And at the board crown Death:
I am too weak to live at all
Except I breathe thy breath.
Show me a love that nothing bates,
Absolute, self-severe—
Even at Gehenna's prayerless gates
I should not "taint with fear."
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
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Удивительная книга. Как никогда актуальна сегодня. Язык и стиль автора настолько тонок, лёгок и изыскан, что легко поведёт читателя в мир героев, кото...
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