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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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sitteth at the Master's feet In motionless employ;
ears, her heart, her soul complete Drinks in the tide of joy.
who but she the glory knows Of life, pure, high, intense,

In whose eternal silence blows

The wind beyond the sense!

In her still ear, God's perfect grace

Incarnate is in voice;

thoughts, the people of the place, Receive it, and rejoice.
eyes, with heavenly reason bright, Are on the ground cast low;
words of spirit, life, and light-- They set them shining so.
see! a face is at the door Whose eyes are not at rest;

A voice breaks on divinest lore

With petulant request.

"Master," it said, "dost thou not care

She lets me serve alone?

Tell her to come and take her share."

But Mary's eyes shine on.

lifts them with a questioning glance, Calmly to him who heard;
merest sign, she'll rise at once, Nor wait the uttered word.
"Martha, Martha!" with it bore A sense of coming nay;

He told her that her trouble sore

Was needless any day.

he would not have Mary chid For want of needless care;
needful thing was what she did, At his feet sitting there.

Sure, joy awoke in her dear heart

Doing the thing it would,

When he, the holy, took her part,

And called her choice the good!

Oh needful thing, Oh Mary's choice,

Go not from us away!

Oh Jesus, with the living voice,

Talk to us every day!

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