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

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

The Moon.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

In The Winter

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Fate

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

The Wind And The Moon

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

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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

A Christmas Prayer

Loving looks the large-eyed cow,
Loving stares the long-eared ass
At Heaven's glory in the grass!
Child, with added human birth
Come to bring the child of earth
Glad repentance, tearful mirth,
And a seat beside the hearth
At the Father's knee--
Make us peaceful as thy cow;
Make us patient as thine ass;
Make us quiet as thou art now;
Make us strong as thou wilt be.
Make us always know and see
We are his as well as thou.

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

Christmas Song Of The Old Children

    Well for youth to seek the strong,
        Beautiful, and brave!
    We, the old, who walk along
        Gently to the grave,
    Only pay our court to thee,
    Child of all Eternity!

    We are old who once were young,
        And we grow more old;
    Songs we are that have been sung,
        Tales that have been told;
    Yellow leaves, wind-blown to thee,
    Childhood of Eternity!

    If we come too sudden near,
        Lo, Earth's infant cries,
    For our faces wan and drear
        Have such withered eyes!
    Thou, Heaven's child, turn'st not away
    From the wrinkled ones who pray!

    Smile upon us with thy mouth
        And thine eyes of grace;
    On our cold north breathe thy south.
        Thaw th...

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 For Christmas

    Hark, in the steeple the dull bell swinging
        Over the furrows ill ploughed by Death!
    Hark the bird-babble, the loud lark singing!
        Hark, from the sky, what the prophet saith!

    Hark, in the pines, the free Wind, complaining--
        Moaning, and murmuring, "Life is bare!"
    Hark, in the organ, the caught Wind, outstraining,
        Jubilant rise in a soaring prayer!

    Toll for the burying, sexton tolling!
        Sing for the second birth, angel Lark!
    Moan, ye poor Pines, with the Past condoling!
        Burst out, brave Organ, and kill the Dark!


II.

    Sit on the ground, and immure thy sorrow;
        I will give freedom to mine in song!
    Haunt thou the tomb, and deny the morrow;
        I wil...

George MacDonald