The Complete Poetical Works of George MacDonald. George MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ were no lord of righteousness

       Who subjects such would gain

       As yield their birthright for a mess

       Of liberty from pain!

      "And wilt thou bargain then with Him?"

       The priest makes answer high.

       'Tis thou, priest, makest the sky dim:

       My hope is in the sky.

      XXVI.

      But is my will alive, awake?

       The one God will not heed

       If in my lips or hands I take

       A half-word or half-deed.

      Hour after hour I sit and dream,

       Amazed in outwardness;

       The powers of things that only seem

       The things that are oppress;

      Till in my soul some discord sounds,

       Till sinks some yawning lack;

       Then turn I from life's rippling rounds,

       And unto thee come back.

      Thou seest how poor a thing am I,

       Yet hear, whate'er I be;

       Despairing of my will, I cry,

       Be God enough to me.

      My spirit, low, irresolute,

       I cast before thy feet;

       And wait, while even prayer is mute,

       For what thou judgest meet.

      XXVII.

      My safety lies not, any hour,

       In what I generate,

       But in the living, healing power

       Of that which doth create.

      If he is God to the incomplete,

       Fulfilling lack and need,

       Then I may cast before his feet

       A half-word or half-deed.

      I bring, Lord, to thy altar-stair,

       To thee, love-glorious,

       My very lack of will and prayer,

       And cry—Thou seest me thus!

      From some old well of life they flow!

       The words my being fill!—

       "Of me that man the truth shall know

       Who wills the Father's will."

      XXVIII.

      What is his will?—that I may go

       And do it, in the hope

       That light will rise and spread and grow,

       As deed enlarges scope.

      I need not search the sacred book

       To find my duty clear;

       Scarce in my bosom need I look,

       It lies so very near.

      Henceforward I must watch the door

       Of word and action too;

       There's one thing I must do no more,

       Another I must do.

      Alas, these are such little things!

       No glory in their birth!

       Doubt from their common aspect springs—

       If God will count them worth.

      But here I am not left to choose,

       My duty is my lot;

       And weighty things will glory lose

       If small ones are forgot.

      I am not worthy high things yet;

       I'll humbly do my own;

       Good care of sheep may so beget

       A fitness for the throne.

      Ah fool! why dost thou reason thus?

       Ambition's very fool!

       Through high and low, each glorious,

       Shines God's all-perfect rule.

      'Tis God I need, not rank in good:

       'Tis Life, not honour's meed;

       With him to fill my every mood,

       I am content indeed.

      XXIX.

      Will do: shall know: I feel the force, The fullness of the word; His holy boldness held its course, Claiming divine accord.

      What if, as yet, I have never seen

       The true face of the Man!

       The named notion may have been

       A likeness vague and wan;

      A thing of such unblended hues

       As, on his chamber wall,

       The humble peasant gladly views,

       And Jesus Christ doth call.

      The story I did never scan

       With vision calm and strong;

       Have never tried to see the Man,

       The many words among.

      Pictures there are that do not please

       With any sweet surprise,

       But gain the heart by slow degrees

       Until they feast the eyes;

      And if I ponder what they call

       The gospel of God's grace,

       Through СКАЧАТЬ