The Poetical Works of George MacDonald (Parables)
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Now I had suffered in my life, as they
Must suffer, and by slow years younger grow, From whom the false fool-self must drop away,
Compact of greed and fear, which, gathered slow,
Darkens the angel-self that, evermore, Where no vain phantom in or out shall go,
Moveless beholds the Father--stands before
The throne of revelation, waiting there, With wings low-drooping on the sapphire-floor,
Until it find the Father's ideal fair,
And be itself at last: not one small thorn Shall needless any pilgrim's garments tear;
And but to say I had suffered I would scorn
Save for the marvellous thing that next befell: Sudden I grew aware I was new-born;
All pain had vanished in the absorbent swell
Of some exalting peace that was my own; As the moon dwelt in heaven did calmness dwell
At home in me, essential. The earth's moan
Lay all behind. Had I then lost my part In human griefs, dear part with them that groan?
"'Tis weariness!" I said; but with a start
That set it trembling and yet brake it not, I found the peace was love. Oh, my rich heart!
For, every time I spied a glimmering spot
Of window pane, "There, in that silent room," Thought I, "mayhap sleeps human heart whose lot
Is therefore dear to mine!" I cared for whom
I saw not, had not seen, and might not see! After the love crept prone its shadow-gloom,
But instant a mightier love arose in me,
As in an ocean a single wave will swell, And heaved the shadow to the centre: we
Had called it prayer, before on sleep I fell.
It sank, and left my sea in holy calm: I gave each man to God, and all was well.
And in my heart stirred soft a sleeping psalm.