The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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XXI.

As little comfort would it bring,

Amid a throng to pass;

To stand with thousands worshipping

Upon the sea of glass;

To know that, of a sinful world,

I one was saved as well;

My roll of ill with theirs upfurled,

And cast in deepest hell;

That God looked bounteously on one,

Because on many men;

As shone Judea's earthly sun

On all the healed ten.

No;

thou must be a God to me As if but me were none;

I such a perfect child to thee

As if thou hadst but one.

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