The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1 by MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 A word from our supporters: File extension DOWNLOADHOST To L.p.m.d. Within And Without Part I. Song. Part Ii. * * * * * Song. Part Iii. Song. Song. Song. * * * * * Song. Part Iv. * * * * * * * * * * The Father's Hymn For The Mother To Sing. Song. Song. Part V. A Dream. A Hidden Life. I. Ii. A Hidden Life. A Story Of The Sea-shore. To Them That Mourn. A Story Of The Sea-shore. Introduction. The Story. The Disciple. Dedication. The Disciple. I. X. Xi. Xii. Xiii. Xx. Xxi. Xxii. Xxiii. Xxiv. Xxv. Xxvi. Xxvii. Xxviii. Xxix. Ii. Iii. Iv. V. Ii. The Woman That Lifted Up Her Voice. Iii. The Mother Of Zebedee's Children. A Book Of Sonnets. The Burnt-offering. The Unseen Face. Concerning Jesus. I. Death. Organ Songs. To A. J. Scott With The Following Poem. Light. To A. J. Scott. I Would I Were A Child. A Prayer For The Past. A Prayer For The Past. Longing. I Know What Beauty Is. A Christmas Carol For 1862, The Year Of The Trouble In Lancashire. A Christmas Carol. The Sleepless Jesus. Christmas Day And Every Day. The Children's Heaven. Rejoice. The Grace Of Grace. Antiphon. Dorcas. Marriage Song. Blind Bartimeus. Come Unto Me. Morning Hymn. Noontide Hymn. Evening Hymn. The Holy Midnight. Rondel. 1845. Death. Hard Times. If I Were A Monk, And Thou Wert A Nun. Ii. Iii. Oh Thou Of Little Faith! Wild Flowers. Spring Song. The Temple Of God. Going To Sleep. To-morrow. Foolish Children. Love Is Home. Iii. Iv. V. Vi. Part Ii. I. Ii. Iii. Iv. V. Vi. Roadside Poems. Better Things. An Old Sermon With A New Text. Little Elfie. Reciprocity. 1892. The Shadows. The Child-mother. He Heeded Not. The Sheep And The Goat. The Wakeful Sleeper. A Dream Of Waking. A Manchester Poem. * * * * * What The Lord Saith. How Shall He Sing Who Hath No Song? This World. To G. M. T. In Memorium Lady Caroline Charteris. End Of Vol. I.

_Julian_. My friend, if one should tell a homeless boy, "There is your father's house: go in and rest;" Through every open room the child would pass, Timidly looking for the friendly eye; Fearing to touch, scarce daring even to wonder At what he saw, until he found his sire; But gathered to his bosom, straight he is The heir of all; he knows it 'mid his tears. And so with me: not having seen Him yet, The light rests on me with a heaviness; All beauty wears to me a doubtful look; A voice is in the wind I do not know; A meaning on the face of the high hills Whose utterance I cannot comprehend. A something is behind them: that is God. These are his words, I doubt not, language strange; These are the expressions of his shining thoughts; And he is present, but I find him not. I have not yet been held close to his heart. Once in his inner room, and by his eyes Acknowledged, I shall find my home in these, 'Mid sights familiar as a mother's smiles, And sounds that never lose love's mystery. Then they will comfort me. Lead me to Him._Robert (pointing to the Crucifix in a recess_). See, there is God revealed in human form!_Julian (kneeling and crossing_). Alas, my friend!--revealed--but as in nature: I see the man; I cannot find the God. I know his voice is in the wind, his presence Is in the Christ. The wind blows where it listeth; And there stands Manhood: and the God is there, Not here, not here!(_Pointing to his bosom_.) [_Seeing Robert's bewildered look, and changing his tone_--]You do not understand me. Without my need, you cannot know my want. You will all night be puzzling to determine With which of the old heretics to class me. But you are honest; will not rouse the cry Against me. I am honest. For the proof, Such as will satisfy a monk, look here! Is this a smooth belt, brother? And look here! Did one week's scourging seam my side like that? I am ashamed to speak thus, and to show Things rightly hidden; but in my heart I love you, And cannot bear but you should think me true. Let it excuse my foolishness. They talk Of penance! Let them talk when they have tried, And found it has not even unbarred heaven's gate, Let out one stray beam of its living light, Or humbled that proud _I_ that knows not God! You are my friend:--if you should find this cell Empty some morning, do not be afraid That any ill has happened._Robert_.] Well, perhaps 'Twere better you should go. I cannot help you, But I can keep your secret. God be with you. [_Goes_.