The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 45
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XIX.
I shall behold him, one day, nigh.
a.s.sailed with glory keen, My eyes will open wide, and I Shall see as I am seen.
Of nothing can my heart be sure Except the highest, best When G.o.d I see with vision pure, That sight will be my rest.
Forward I look with longing eye, And still my hope renew; Backward, and think that from the sky _Did_ come that falling dew.
XX.
But if a vision should unfold That I might banish fear; That I, the chosen, might be bold, And walk with upright cheer;
My heart would cry: But shares my race In this great love of thine?
I pray, put me not in good case Where others lack and pine.
Nor claim I thus a loving heart That for itself is mute: In such love I desire no part As reaches not my root.
But if my brothers thou dost call As children to thy knee, Thou givest me my being's all, Thou sayest child to me.
If thou to me alone shouldst give, My heart were all beguiled: It would not be because I live, And am my Father's child!
XXI.
As little comfort would it bring, Amid a throng to pa.s.s; To stand with thousands wors.h.i.+pping Upon the sea of gla.s.s;
To know that, of a sinful world, I one was saved as well; My roll of ill with theirs upfurled, And cast in deepest h.e.l.l;
That G.o.d looked bounteously on one, Because on many men; As shone Judea's earthly sun On all the healed ten.
No; thou must be a G.o.d to me As if but me were none; I such a perfect child to thee As if thou hadst but one.
XXII.
Oh, then, my Father, hast thou not A blessing just for me?
Shall I be, barely, not forgot?-- Never come home to thee?
Hast thou no care for this one child, This thinking, living need?
Or is thy countenance only mild, Thy heart not love indeed?
For some eternal joy I pray, To make me strong and free; Yea, such a friend I need alway As thou alone canst be.
Is not creative infinitude Able, in every man, To turn itself to every mood Since G.o.d man's life began?
Art thou not each man's G.o.d--his own, With secret words between, As thou and he lived all alone, Insphered in silence keen?
Ah, G.o.d, my heart is not the same As any heart beside; My pain is different, and my blame, My pity and my pride!
My history thou know'st, my thoughts Different from other men's; Thou knowest all the sheep and goats That mingle in my pens.
Thou knowest I a love might bring By none beside me due; One praiseful song at least might sing Which could not but be new.
XXIII.
Nor seek I thus to stand apart, In aught my kind above; My neighbour, ah, my troubled heart Must rest ere thee it love!
If G.o.d love not, I have no care, No power to love, no hope.
What is life here or anywhere?
Or why with darkness cope?
I scorn my own love's every sign, So feeble, selfish, low, If his love give no pledge that mine Shall one day perfect grow.
But if I knew Thy love even such, As tender and intense As, tested by its human touch, Would satisfy my sense
Of what a father never was But should be to his son, My heart would leap for joy, because My rescue was begun.
Oh then my love, by thine set free, Would overflow thy men; In every face my heart would see G.o.d s.h.i.+ning out again!
There are who hold high festival And at the board crown Death: I am too weak to live at all Except I breathe thy breath.
Show me a love that nothing bates, Absolute, self-severe-- Even at Gehenna's prayerless gates I should not "taint with fear."
XXIV.
I cannot brook that men should say-- Nor this for gospel take-- That thou wilt hear me if I pray Asking for Jesus' sake.
For love to him is not to me, And cannot lift my fate; The love is not that is not free, Perfect, immediate.
Love is salvation: life without No moment can endure.
Those sheep alone go in and out Who know thy love is pure.
XXV.
But what if G.o.d requires indeed, For cause yet unrevealed, a.s.sent to one fixed form of creed, Such as I cannot yield?
Has G.o.d made _for Christ's sake_ a test-- To take or leave the crust, That only he may have the best Who licks the serpent-dust?
No, no; the words I will not say With the responding folk; I at his feet a heart would lay, Not shoulders for a yoke.
He were no lord of righteousness Who subjects such would gain As yield their birthright for a mess Of liberty from pain!
"And wilt thou bargain then with Him?"
The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 45
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The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 45 summary
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