In the Perfect Time

And in the perfect time, 

O perfect God,When we are in our home, our natal home,

When joy shall carry every sacred load,

And from its life and peace no heart shall roam,

What if thou make us able to make like thee—

To light with moons, to clothe with greenery,

To hang gold sunsets o’er a rose and purple sea!

—George MacDonald


I thought for a moment to dismiss the last part of that verse – What do I care about lighting moons & hanging sunsets? My work is in carrying the sacred load with joy. But the second the thought was before me I saw what I had done: in being so focused on my lesson at hand, I forgot that while necessary, it is still merely dealing with the mechanics and facts about that new Life, which is really the end and culmination of this exercise in life. But what if someday we are capable of a  Life so vibrant and pulsating that it may just be able to think of wonderful things, and that called from the void really does come. A life so shimmering with vitality that it does not need to call to mind the exact order of actions needed, it sees the open sky and flies. That would be living indeed, and sublime perfection, would it not?


— Watergirl 🌸


Then to his neighbour one may call out, “Come!

Brother, come hither—I would show you a thing;”

And lo, a vision of his imagining,

Informed of thought which else had rested dumb,

Before the neighbour’s truth-delighted eyes,

In the great æther of existence rise,

And two hearts each to each the closer cling!


We make, but thou art the creating core.

Whatever thing I dream, invent, or feel,

Thou art the heart of it, the atmosphere.

Thou art inside all love man ever bore;

Yea, the love itself, whatever thing be dear.

Man calls his dog, he follows at his heel,

Because thou first art love, self-caused, essential, mere.


— George MacDonald

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