Je suis une bête

I am a beast until I love as God doth love.

I am a beast until I love as God doth love. 
Ah, say not, ’tis but perfect self I want

But if it were, that self is fit to live

Whose perfectness is still itself to scant,

Which never longs to have, but still to give.

A self I must have, or not be at all:

Love, give me a self self-giving—or let me fall

To endless darkness back, and free me from life’s thrall.
“Back,” said I! Whither back? How to the dark?

From no dark came I, but the depths of light;

From the sun-heart I came, of love a spark:

What should I do but love with all my might?

To die of love severe and pure and stark,

Were scarcely loss; to lord a loveless height—

That were a living death, damnation’s positive night.
George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul

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