Heavenly Help

"It may please some of my children to find this once I am gone away. He or she may be in some trouble then. Think, darling, how I would help you if I could; how much more your Father and my Father. And He can."George MacDonald (George MacDonald, from a note attached to his manuscript … Continue reading Heavenly Help

The Search

Whither, O, whither art thou fled,My Lord, my Love?My searches are my daily bread;Yet never prove. My knees pierce th’earth, mine eyes the sky;And yet the sphereAnd centre both to me denyThat thou art there. Yet can I mark how herbs belowGrow green and gay,As if to meet thee they did know,While I decay. Yet … Continue reading The Search

A Scion

“Thou in my heart hast planted, gardener divine,A scion of the tree of life: it grows;But not in every wind or weather it blows;The leaves fall sometimes from the baby tree,And the life-power seems melting into pine;Yet still the sap keeps struggling to the shine,And the unseen root clings cramplike unto thee.” “Do thou, my … Continue reading A Scion

Fair Hope

“My harvest withers. Health, my means to live—All things seem rushing straight into the dark.But the dark still is God. I would not giveThe smallest silver-piece to turn the rushBackward or sideways. Am I not a sparkOf him who is the light?—Fair hope doth flushMy east.—Divine success—Oh, hush and hark!”— George MacDonald, The Diary of … Continue reading Fair Hope