The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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VIII.

The

preacher's words are true, I know-- That man may lose his life;

That every man must downward go

Without the upward strife.

'Twere well my soul should cease to roam,

Should seek and have and hold!

It may be there is yet a home

In that religion old.

Again I kneel, again I pray:

Wilt thou be God to me?

Wilt thou give ear to what I say,

And lift me up to thee?

Lord, is it true? Oh, vision high!

The clouds of heaven dispart;

An opening depth of loving sky

Looks down into my heart!

There is a home wherein to dwell--

The very heart of light!

Thyself my sun immutable,

My moon and stars all night!

I thank thee, Lord. It must be so,

Its beauty is so good.

Up in my heart thou mad'st it go,

And I have understood.

The

clouds return. The common day Falls on me like a No;

But

I have seen what might be--may, And with a hope I go.

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