The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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XXIII.

Nor

seek I thus to stand apart, In aught my kind above;

My neighbour, ah, my troubled heart

Must rest ere thee it love!

If God love not, I have no care,

No power to love, no hope.

What is life here or anywhere?

Or why with darkness cope?

I scorn my own love's every sign,

So feeble, selfish, low,

If his love give no pledge that mine

Shall one day perfect grow.

But

if I knew Thy love even such, As tender and intense

As,

tested by its human touch, Would satisfy my sense

Of

what a father never was
But should be to his son,

My heart would leap for joy, because

My rescue was begun.

Oh then my love, by thine set free,

Would overflow thy men;

In every face my heart would see

God shining out again!

There are who hold high festival

And at the board crown Death:

I am too weak to live at all

Except I breathe thy breath.

Show me a love that nothing bates,

Absolute, self-severe--

Even at Gehenna's prayerless gates

I should not "taint with fear."

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