The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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XXVI.

But

is my will alive, awake? The one God will not heed

If in my lips or hands I take

A half-word or half-deed.

Hour after hour I sit and dream,

Amazed in outwardness;

The

powers of things that only seem The things that are oppress;

Till in my soul some discord sounds,

Till sinks some yawning lack;

Then turn I from life's rippling rounds,

And unto thee come back.

Thou seest how poor a thing am I,

Yet hear, whate'er I be;

Despairing of my will, I cry,

Be God enough to me.

My spirit, low, irresolute,

I cast before thy feet;

And

wait, while even prayer is mute, For what thou judgest meet.

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