To My God

Oh how oft I wake and find
    I have been forgetting thee!
I am never from thy mind:
    Thou it is that wakest me.

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 Diary Of An Old Soul. - November

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Songs Of The Autumn Days

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Songs Of The Winter Nights

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Shall The Dead Praise Thee?

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Morning Hymn

    O Lord of life, thy quickening voice
        Awakes my morning song!
    In gladsome words I would rejoice
        That I to thee belong.

    I see thy light, I feel thy wind;
        The world, it is thy word;
    Whatever wakes my heart and mind,
        Thy presence is, my Lord.

    The living soul which I call me
        Doth love, and long to know;
    It is a thought of living thee,
        Nor forth of thee can go.

    Therefore I choose my highest part,
        And turn my face to thee;
    Therefore I stir my inmost heart
        To worship fervently.

    Lord, let me live and will this day--
        Keep rising from the dead;
    Lord, make my spirit good and gay--
        Give me my daily bread.

...

George MacDonald

Awake!

    The stars are all watching;
    God's angel is catching
At thy skirts in the darkness deep!
    Gold hinges grating,
    The mighty dead waiting,
Why dost thou sleep?

    Years without number,
    Ages of slumber,
Stiff in the track of the infinite One!
    Dead, can I think it?
    Dropt like a trinket,
A thing whose uses are done!

    White wings are crossing,
    Glad waves are tossing,
The earth flames out in crimson and green
    Spring is appearing,
    Summer is nearing--
Where hast thou been?

    Down in some cavern,
    Death's sleepy tavern,
Housing, carousing with spectres of night?
    There is my right hand!
    Grasp it full tight and
Spring to the light.

    Wonder, oh, wonder!<...

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

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

0 Lord, How Happy!

From the German of Dessler.

O Lord, how happy is the time
    When in thy love I rest!
When from my weariness I climb
    Even to thy tender breast!
The night of sorrow endeth there--
    Thou art brighter than the sun;
And in thy pardon and thy care
    The heaven of heaven is won.

Let the world call herself my foe,
    Or let the world allure--
I care not for the world; I go
    To this dear friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent
    Upon life's wildest sea,
My little bark is confident
    Because it holds by thee.

When the law threatens endless death
    Upon the dreadful hill,
Straightway from her consuming breath
    My soul goeth higher still--
Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain,
    A...

George MacDonald

Evening Hymn

    O God, whose daylight leadeth down
        Into the sunless way,
    Who with restoring sleep dost crown
        The labour of the day!

    What I have done, Lord, make it clean
        With thy forgiveness dear;
    That so to-day what might have been,
        To-morrow may appear.

    And when my thought is all astray,
        Yet think thou on in me;
    That with the new-born innocent day
        My soul rise fresh and free.

    Nor let me wander all in vain
        Through dreams that mock and flee;
    But even in visions of the brain,
        Go wandering toward thee.

George MacDonald