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

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

Time And Tide

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Much And More

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

A Gift.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

To Any One

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

A Noonday Melody

Everything goes to its rest;
    The hills are asleep in the noon;
And life is as still in its nest
    As the moon when she looks on a moon
In the depth of a calm river's breast
    As it steals through a midnight in June.

The streams have forgotten the sea
    In the dream of their musical sound;
The sunlight is thick on the tree,
    And the shadows lie warm on the ground,--
So still, you may watch them and see
    Every breath that awakens around.

The churchyard lies still in the heat,
    With its handful of mouldering bone,
As still as the long stalk of wheat
    In the shadow that sits by the stone,
As still as the grass at my feet
    When I walk in the meadows alone.

The waves are asleep on the main,
    And the ships ...

George MacDonald

Rest

I.

    When round the earth the Father's hands
        Have gently drawn the dark;
    Sent off the sun to fresher lands,
        And curtained in the lark;
    'Tis sweet, all tired with glowing day,
        To fade with fading light,
    And lie once more, the old weary way,
        Upfolded in the night.

    If mothers o'er our slumbers bend,
        And unripe kisses reap,
    In soothing dreams with sleep they blend,
        Till even in dreams we sleep.
    And if we wake while night is dumb,
        'Tis sweet to turn and say,
    It is an hour ere dawning come,
        And I will sleep till day.


II.

    There is a dearer, warmer bed,
        Where one all day may lie,
    Earth's bosom pillowing the hea...

George MacDonald

Morning Hymn

    O Lord of life, thy quickening voice
        Awakes my morning song!
    In gladsome words I would rejoice
        That I to thee belong.

    I see thy light, I feel thy wind;
        The world, it is thy word;
    Whatever wakes my heart and mind,
        Thy presence is, my Lord.

    The living soul which I call me
        Doth love, and long to know;
    It is a thought of living thee,
        Nor forth of thee can go.

    Therefore I choose my highest part,
        And turn my face to thee;
    Therefore I stir my inmost heart
        To worship fervently.

    Lord, let me live and will this day--
        Keep rising from the dead;
    Lord, make my spirit good and gay--
        Give me my daily bread.

...

George MacDonald

A Prayer

    When I look back upon my life nigh spent,
        Nigh spent, although the stream as yet flows on,
    I more of follies than of sins repent,
        Less for offence than Love's shortcomings moan.
        With self, O Father, leave me not alone--
    Leave not with the beguiler the beguiled;
        Besmirched and ragged, Lord, take back thine own:
    A fool I bring thee to be made a child.

George MacDonald

At My Window After Sunset

    Heaven and the sea attend the dying day,
    And in their sadness overflow and blend--
    Faint gold, and windy blue, and green and gray:
    Far out amid them my pale soul I send.

    For, as they mingle, so mix life and death;
    An hour draws near when my day too will die;
    Already I forecast unheaving breath,
    Eviction on the moorland of yon sky.

    Coldly and sadly lone, unhoused, alone,
    Twixt wind-broke wave and heaven's uncaring space!
    At board and hearth from this time forth unknown!
    Refuge no more in wife or daughter's face!

    Cold, cold and sad, lone as that desert sea!
    Sad, lonely, as that hopeless, patient sky!
    Forward I cannot go, nor backward flee!
    I am not dead; I live, and cannot die!

George MacDonald

Evening Hymn

    O God, whose daylight leadeth down
        Into the sunless way,
    Who with restoring sleep dost crown
        The labour of the day!

    What I have done, Lord, make it clean
        With thy forgiveness dear;
    That so to-day what might have been,
        To-morrow may appear.

    And when my thought is all astray,
        Yet think thou on in me;
    That with the new-born innocent day
        My soul rise fresh and free.

    Nor let me wander all in vain
        Through dreams that mock and flee;
    But even in visions of the brain,
        Go wandering toward thee.

George MacDonald