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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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SCENE III.--JULIAN _on the summit of a mountain-peak. The stars are brilliant around a crescent moon, hanging half-way between the mountain and the zenith. Below lies a sea of vapour. Beyond rises a loftier pinnacle, across which is stretched a bar of cloud_. LILY lies on the cloud, looking earnestly into the mist below.

Julian (gazing upward).
And thou wast with me all the time, my God, Even as now! I was not far from thee. Thy spirit spoke in all my wants and fears, And hopes and longings. Thou art all in all. I am not mine, but thine. I cannot speak The thoughts that work within me like a sea. When on the earth I lay, crushed down beneath A hopeless weight of empty desolation, Thy loving face was lighted then, O Christ, With expectation of my joy to come, When all the realm of possible ill should lie Under my feet, and I should stand as now Heart-sure of thee, true-hearted, only One. Was ever soul filled to such overflowing With the pure wine of blessedness, my God! Filled as the night with stars, am I with joys; Filled as the heavens with thee, am I with peace; For now I wait the end of all my prayers-- Of all that have to do with old-world things: What new things come to wake new prayers, my God, Thou know'st; I wait on thee in perfect peace.

[He turns his gaze downward.--From the fog-sea below half-rises a woman-form, which floats toward him.]

Lo, as the lily lifts its shining bosom From the lone couch of waters where it slept, When the fair morn toucheth and waketh it; So riseth up my lily from the deep Where human souls are vexed in awful dreams!

[LILY spies her mother, darts down, and is caught in her arms. They land on JULIAN'S _peak, and climb, LILY leading her mother.]

Come faster, mother dear; father is waiting.

Have patience with me, darling. By and by, I think, I shall do better.--Oh my Julian!

I may not help her. She must climb and come.

[He reaches his hand, and the three are clasped in an infinite embrace.]

O God, thy thoughts, thy ways, are not as ours: They fill our longing hearts up to the brim.

[The moon and the stars and the blue night close around them; and the poet awakes from his dream.]

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