A Prayer In Sickness.

Thou foldest me in sickness;
    Thou callest through the cloud;
I batter with the thickness
    Of the swathing, blinding shroud:
Oh, let me see thy face,
The only perfect grace
    That thou canst show thy child.

0 father, being-giver,
    Take off the sickness-cloud;
Saviour, my life deliver
    From this dull body-shroud:
Till I can see thy face
I am not full of grace,
    I am not reconciled.

George MacDonald

George MacDonald (1824–1905) was a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister best known for his fairy tales and fantasy novels. He was a pioneer in the fantasy genre, influencing notable writers such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. His major works include "Phantastes" and "Lilith," as well as numerous poems and other literary works. MacDonald's writings are characterized by their imaginative qualities and deep spiritual insight.

George MacDonald

A Mood

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Autumn Song

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

The Human.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Up And-Down.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

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Hymn For A Sick Girl

    Father, in the dark I lay,
        Thirsting for the light,
    Helpless, but for hope alway
        In thy father-might.

    Out of darkness came the morn,
        Out of death came life,
    I, and faith, and hope, new-born,
        Out of moaning strife!

    So, one morning yet more fair,
        I shall, joyous-brave,
    Sudden breathing loftier air,
        Triumph o'er the grave.

    Though this feeble body lie
        Underneath the ground,
    Wide awake, not sleeping, I
        Shall in him be found.

    But a morn yet fairer must
        Quell this inner gloom--
    Resurrection from the dust
        Of a deeper tomb!

    Father, wake thy little child;
        Give me bread and wine
   ...

George MacDonald

God; Not Gift

    Gray clouds my heaven have covered o'er;
        My sea ebbs fast, no more to flow;
    Ghastly and dry, my desert shore
        Parched, bare, unsightly things doth show.

    'Tis thou, Lord, cloudest up my sky;
        Stillest the heart-throb of my sea;
    Tellest the sad wind not to sigh,
        Yea, life itself to wait for thee!

    Lord, here I am, empty enough!
        My music but a soundless moan!
    Blind hope, of all my household stuff,
        Leaves me, blind hope, not quite alone!

    Shall hope too go, that I may trust
        Purely in thee, and spite of all?
    Then turn my very heart to dust--
        On thee, on thee, I yet will call.

    List! list! his wind among the pines
        Hark! hark! that rushi...

George MacDonald

A Song Prayer

    Lord Jesus,
    Oh, ease us
    Of Self that oppresses,
    Annoys and distresses
    Body and brain
    With dull pain!
    Thou never,
    Since ever,
    Save one moment only,
    Wast left, or wast lonely:
    We are alone,
    And make moan.

    Far parted,
    Dull-hearted,
    We wander, sleep-walking,
    Mere shadows, dim-stalking:
    Orphans we roam,
    Far from home.

    Oh new man,
    Sole human,
    God's son, and our brother,
    Give each to the other--
    No one left out
    In cold doubt!

    High Father,
    Oh gather
    Thy sons and thy daughters,
    Through fires and through waters,
    Home to the nest
    Of thy breast!

    There under<...

George MacDonald

A Winter Prayer.

Come through the gloom of clouded skies,
    The slow dim rain and fog athwart;
Through east winds keen with wrong and lies
    Come and lift up my hopeless heart.

Come through the sickness and the pain,
    The sore unrest that tosses still;
Through aching dark that hides the gain
    Come and arouse my fainting will.

Come through the prate of foolish words,
    The science with no God behind;
Through all the pangs of untuned chords
    Speak wisdom to my shaken mind.

Through all the fears that spirits bow
    Of what hath been, or may befall,
Come down and talk with me, for thou
    Canst tell me all about them all.

Hear, hear my sad lone heart entreat,
    Heart of all joy, below, above!
Come near and let me kiss thy feet,<...

George MacDonald

Dejection

O Father, I am in the dark,
    My soul is heavy-bowed:
I send my prayer up like a lark,
    Up through my vapoury shroud,
                To find thee,
                And remind thee
I am thy child, and thou my father,
Though round me death itself should gather.

Lay thy loved hand upon my head,
    Let thy heart beat in mine;
One thought from thee, when all seems dead,
    Will make the darkness shine
                About me
                And throughout me!
And should again the dull night gather,
I'll cry again, Thou art my father.

George MacDonald

An Evening Prayer

I am a bubble
    Upon thy ever-moving, resting sea:
Oh, rest me now from tossing, trespass, trouble!
    Take me down into thee.

Give me thy peace.
    My heart is aching with unquietness:
Oh, make its inharmonious beating cease!
    Thy hand upon it press.

My Night! my Day!
    Swift night and day betwixt, my world doth reel:
Potter, take not thy hand from off the clay
    That whirls upon thy wheel.

O Heart, I cry
    For love and life, pardon and hope and strength!
O Father, I am thine; I shall not die,
    But I shall sleep at length!

George MacDonald