England's Antiphon

Home - George MacDonald - England's Antiphon

Prev | Next | Contents


Good God, when them thy inward grace dost shower

Into my breast,
How full of light and lively power Is then my soul!
How am I blest!
How can I then all difficulties devour! Thy might,
Thy spright,
With ease my cumbrous enemy control.

If thou once turn away thy face and hide

Thy cheerful look,

  My feeble flesh may not abide
  That dreadful stound; hour.
  I cannot brook  
Thy absence. My heart, with
Doth fail,
Doth quail;
care and grief then gride,

My life steals from me at that hidden wound.

My fancy's then a burden to my mind;

Mine anxious thought

Betrays my reason, makes me blind;
Near dangers drad dreaded.
Make me distraught;
Surprised with fear my senses all I find:
In hell
I dwell,
Oppressed with horror, pain, and sorrow sad.

My former resolutions all are fled--

Slipped over my tongue;

My faith, my hope, and joy are dead.

Assist my heart,
Rather than my song,

My God, my Saviour! When I'm ill-bested.

Stand by,
And I

Shall bear with courage undeservéd smart.

Prev | Next | Contents