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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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If thou hadst built some mighty instrument, And set thee down to utter ordered sound, Whose faithful billows, from thy hands unbound, Breaking in light, against our spirits went, And caught, and bore above this earthly tent, The far-strayed back to their prime natal ground, Where all roots fast in harmony are found, And God sits thinking out a pure consent;-- Nay, that thou couldst not; that was not for thee! Our broken music thou must first restore-- A harder task than think thine own out free; And till thou hast done it, no divinest score, Though rendered by thine own angelic choir, Can lift one human spirit from the mire.

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