Christmas Meditation

    He who by a mother's love
        Made the wandering world his own,
    Every year comes from above,
        Comes the parted to atone,
        Binding Earth to the Father's throne.

    Nay, thou comest every day!
        No, thou never didst depart!
    Never hour hast been away!
        Always with us, Lord, thou art,
        Binding, binding heart to heart!

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

Sonnet. About Jesus. XIV.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

This Side An' That.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Master And Boy.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

He Heeded Not

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

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Christmas-Day, 1878

I think I might be weary of this day
That comes inevitably every year,
The same when I was young and strong and gay,
The same when I am old and growing sere--
I should grow weary of it every year
But that thou comest to me every day.

I shall grow weary if thou every day
But come to me, Lord of eternal life;
I shall grow weary thus to watch and pray,
For ever out of labour into strife;
Take everlasting house with me, my life,
And I shall be new-born this Christmas-day.

Thou art the Eternal Son, and born no day,
But ever he the Father, thou the Son;
I am his child, but being born alway--
How long, O Lord, how long till it be done?
Be thou from endless years to years the Son--
And I thy brother, new-born every day.

George MacDonald

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!

George MacDonald

Christmas, 1884

    Though in my heart no Christmas glee,
        Though my song-bird be dumb,
    Jesus, it is enough for me
        That thou art come.

    What though the loved be scattered far,
        Few at the board appear,
    In thee, O Lord, they gathered are,
        And thou art here.

    And if our hearts be low with lack,
        They are not therefore numb;
    Not always will thy day come back--
        Thyself will come!

George MacDonald

Christmas Day And Every Day

    Star high,
    Baby low:
    'Twixt the two
    Wise men go;
    Find the baby,
    Grasp the star--
    Heirs of all things
    Near and far!

George MacDonald

Come To Me

Come to me, come to me, O my God;
    Come to me everywhere!
Let the trees mean thee, and the grassy sod,
    And the water and the air!

For thou art so far that I often doubt,
    As on every side I stare,
Searching within, and looking without,
    If thou canst be anywhere.

How did men find thee in days of old?
    How did they grow so sure?
They fought in thy name, they were glad and bold,
    They suffered, and kept themselves pure!

But now they say--neither above the sphere
    Nor down in the heart of man,
But solely in fancy, ambition, and fear
    The thought of thee began.

If only that perfect tale were true
    Which ages have not made old,
Which of endless many makes one anew,
    And simplicity manifold!
...

George MacDonald

Christmas Prayer.

    Cold my heart, and poor, and low,
        Like thy stable in the rock;
    Do not let it orphan go,
        It is of thy parent stock!
    Come thou in, and it will grow
        High and wide, a fane divine;
    Like the ruby it will glow,
        Like the diamond shine!

George MacDonald