Come to God, then, my brother, my sister, with all thy desires and instincts, all thy lofty ideals, all thy longing for purity and unselfishness, all thy yearning to love and be true, all thy aspiration after self-forgetfulness and child-life in the breath of the Father; come to him with all thy weaknesses, all thy … Continue reading Come to Him
Tag: George MacDonald
Sunday, December 28, 1879
A dim, vague shrinking haunts my soul,My spirit bodeth ill–As some far-off restraining bankHad burst, and waters, many a rank,Were marching on my hill; As if I had no fire withinFor thoughts to sit about;As if I had no flax to spin,No lamp to lure the good things inAnd keep the bad things out. The … Continue reading Sunday, December 28, 1879
Christmas, 1884
Though in my heart no Christmas glee,Though my song-bird be dumb,Jesus, it is enough for meThat thou art come.What though the loved be scattered far,Few at the board appear,In thee, O Lord, they gathered are,And thou art here.And if our hearts be low with lack,They are not therefore numb;Not always will thy day come back--Thyself … Continue reading Christmas, 1884
The False Refuge of a Weary Collapse
Of all things let us avoid the false refuge of a weary collapse, a hopeless yielding to things as they are. It is the life in us that is discontented; we need more of what is discontented, not more of the cause of its discontent. Discontent, I repeat, is the life in us that has … Continue reading The False Refuge of a Weary Collapse
It we do not Know
“When he woke not even the shadow of a dream lingered to let him know what he had been dreaming. He woke with such a clear mind, such an immediate uplifting of the soul… The wind came round him like the stuff of thought unshaped, and every breath he drew seemed like God breathing afresh … Continue reading It we do not Know
Preface to Letters from Hell
I would not willingly be misunderstood; when I say the book is full of truth, I do not mean either truth of theory or truth in art, but something far deeper and higher--the realities of our relations to God and man and duty all, in short, that belongs to the conscience. Prominent among these is … Continue reading Preface to Letters from Hell
On Visions of Beauty, with George
Here is a bit from MacDonald on enjoying beauty, not seeking its “encore,” and the true vision that beauty brings us: “I have had dreams of absolute delight, Beyond all waking bliss—only of grass, Flowers, wind, a peak, a limb of marble white; They dwell with me like things half come to pass, True prophecies:—when … Continue reading On Visions of Beauty, with George
Forever Fresh Born
The boy should enclose and keep, as his life, the old child at the heart of him, and never let it go. He must still, to be a right man, be his mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and more. The child is not meant to die, but to be forever fresh born. George … Continue reading Forever Fresh Born
The Will to do Right
Molly stood in the sun, and Walter looked at her till his eyes were wearied with the brightness she reflected, and his heart made strong by the better brightness she radiated. For Molly was the very type of a creature born of the sun and ripened by his light and heat—a glowing fruit of the … Continue reading The Will to do Right
Only Thus
I thought that I had lost thee; but, behold!Thou comest to me from the horizon low,Across the fields outspread of green and gold—Fair carpet for thy feet to come and go.Whence I know not, or how to me thou art come!—Not less my spirit with calm bliss doth glow,Meeting thee only thus, in nature vague … Continue reading Only Thus