Rondel

I do not know thy final will,
    It is too good for me to know:
    Thou willest that I mercy show,
That I take heed and do no ill,
That I the needy warm and fill,
    Nor stones at any sinner throw;
But I know not thy final will--
    It is too good for me to know.

I know thy love unspeakable--
    For love's sake able to send woe!
    To find thine own thou lost didst go,
And wouldst for men thy blood yet spill!--
How should I know thy final will,
    Godwise too good for me to know!

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 Tree's Prayer

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

False Prophets.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

From Home

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Song-Sermon

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.

The Diary Of An Old Soul. - June.

        1.

        FROM thine, as then, the healing virtue goes
        Into our hearts--that is the Father's plan.
        From heart to heart it sinks, it steals, it flows,
        From these that know thee still infecting those.
        Here is my heart--from thine, Lord, fill it up,
        That I may offer it as the holy cup
        Of thy communion to my every man.

        2.

        When thou dost send out whirlwinds on thy seas,
        Alternatest thy lightning with its roar,
        Thy night with morning, and thy clouds with stars
        Or, mightier force unseen in midst of these,
        Orderest the life in every airy pore;
        Guidest men's efforts, rul'st mishaps and jars,--
        'Tis only for their hearts, and nothing more...

George MacDonald

The Diary Of An Old Soul. - February.

        1.

        I TO myself have neither power nor worth,
        Patience nor love, nor anything right good;
        My soul is a poor land, plenteous in dearth--
        Here blades of grass, there a small herb for food--
        A nothing that would be something if it could;
        But if obedience, Lord, in me do grow,
        I shall one day be better than I know.

        2.

        The worst power of an evil mood is this--
        It makes the bastard self seem in the right,
        Self, self the end, the goal of human bliss.
        But if the Christ-self in us be the might
        Of saving God, why should I spend my force
        With a dark thing to reason of the light--
        Not push it rough aside, and hold obedient course?

George MacDonald

Noontide Hymn

    I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,
        Thy fields, thy mountains hoar,
    Thy wind that bloweth where it lists--
        Thy will, I love it more.

    I love thy hidden truth to seek
        All round, in sea, on shore;
    The arts whereby like gods we speak--
        Thy will to me is more.

    I love thy men and women, Lord,
        The children round thy door;
    Calm thoughts that inward strength afford--
        Thy will than these is more.

    But when thy will my life doth hold
        Thine to the very core,
    The world, which that same will doth mould,
        I love, then, ten times more!

George MacDonald

Rondel

Heart, thou must learn to do without--
    That is the riches of the poor,
    Their liberty is to endure;
Wrap thou thine old cloak thee about,
And carol loud and carol stout;
    Let thy rags fly, nor wish them fewer;
Thou too must learn to do without,
    Must earn the riches of the poor!

Why should'st thou only wear no clout?
    Thou only walk in love-robes pure?
    Why should thy step alone be sure?
Thou only free of fortune's flout?
Nay, nay! but learn to go without,
    And so be humbly, richly poor.

George MacDonald

After Thomas Kempis

    I.

    Who follows Jesus shall not walk
    In darksome road with danger rife;
    But in his heart the Truth will talk,
    And on his way will shine the Life.

    So, on the story we must pore
    Of him who lives for us, and died,
    That we may see him walk before,
    And know the Father in the guide.


    II.

    In words of truth Christ all excels,
    Leaves all his holy ones behind;
    And he in whom his spirit dwells
    Their hidden manna sure shall find.

    Gather wouldst thou the perfect grains,
    And Jesus fully understand?
    Thou must obey him with huge pains,
    And to God's will be as Christ's hand.


    III.

    What profits it to reason high
    And in hard q...

George MacDonald

The Diary Of An Old Soul. - March.

        1.

        THE song birds that come to me night and morn,
        Fly oft away and vanish if I sleep,
        Nor to my fowling-net will one return:
        Is the thing ever ours we cannot keep?--
        But their souls go not out into the deep.
        What matter if with changed song they come back?
        Old strength nor yet fresh beauty shall they lack.

        2.

        Gloriously wasteful, O my Lord, art thou!
        Sunset faints after sunset into the night,
        Splendorously dying from thy window-sill--
        For ever. Sad our poverty doth bow
        Before the riches of thy making might:
        Sweep from thy space thy systems at thy will--
        In thee the sun sets every sunset still.

        3.
<...

George MacDonald