The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 19

But when Hope thy song doth rouse, Then the Lord is in the house.

When to love is all thy wit, Christ doth at thy table sit.

When G.o.d's will is thy heart's pole, Then is Christ thy very soul.

_TRAVELLERS' SONG_.

Bands of dark and bands of light Lie athwart the homeward way; Now we cross a belt of Night, Now a strip of shining Day!

Now it is a month of June, Now December's shivering hour; Now rides high loved memories' Moon, Now the Dark is dense with power!

Summers, winters, days, and nights, Moons, and clouds, they come and go; Joys and sorrows, pains, delights, Hope and fear, and _yes_ and _no_.

All is well: come, girls and boys, Not a weary mile is vain!

Hark--dim laughter's radiant noise!

See the windows through the rain!

_LOVE IS STRENGTH_.

Love alone is great in might, Makes the heavy burden light, Smooths rough ways to weary feet, Makes the bitter morsel sweet: Love alone is strength!

Might that is not born of Love Is not Might born from above, Has its birthplace down below Where they neither reap nor sow: Love alone is strength!

Love is stronger than all force, Is its own eternal source; Might is always in decay, Love grows fresher every day: Love alone is strength!

Little ones, no ill can chance; Fear ye not, but sing and dance; Though the high-heaved heaven should fall G.o.d is plenty for us all: G.o.d is Love and Strength!

_COMING_.

When the snow is on the earth Birds and waters cease their mirth; When the sunlight is prevailing Even the night-winds drop their wailing.

On the earth when deep snows lie Still the sun is in the sky, And when most we miss his fire He is ever drawing nigher.

In the darkest winter day Thou, G.o.d, art not far away; When the nights grow colder, drearer, Father, thou art coming nearer!

For thee coming I would watch With my hand upon the latch-- Of the door, I mean, that faces Out upon the eternal s.p.a.ces!

_SONG OF THE WAITING DEAD_.

With us there is no gray fearing, With us no aching for lack!

For the morn it is always nearing, And the night is at our back.

At times a song will fall dumb, A thought-bell burst in a sigh, But no one says, "He will not come!"

She says, "He is almost nigh!"

The thing you call a sorrow Is our delight on its way: We know that the coming morrow Comes on the wheels of to-day!

Our Past is a child asleep; Delay is ripening the kiss; The rising tear we will not weep Until it flow for bliss.

_OBEDIENCE_.

Trust him in the common light; Trust him in the awesome night;

Trust him when the earth doth quake: Trust him when thy heart doth ache;

Trust him when thy brain doth reel And thy friend turns on his heel;

Trust him when the way is rough, Cry not yet, _It is enough_!

But obey with true endeavour, Else the salt hath lost his savour.

_A SONG IN THE NIGHT_.

I would I were an angel strong, An angel of the sun, hasting along!

I would I were just come awake, A child outbursting from night's dusky brake!

Or lark whose inward, upward fate Mocks every wall that masks the heavenly gate!

Or hopeful c.o.c.k whose clarion clear Shrills ten times ere a film of dawn appear!

Or but a glowworm: even then My light would come straight from the Light of Men!

I am a dead seed, dark and slow: Father of larks and children, make me grow.

_DE PROFUNDIS_.

When I am dead unto myself, and let, O Father, thee live on in me, Contented to do nought but pay my debt, And leave the house to thee,

Then shall I be thy ransomed--from the cark Of living, from the strain for breath, From tossing in my coffin strait and dark, At hourly strife with death!

Have mercy! in my coffin! and awake!

A buried temple of the Lord!

Grow, Temple, grow! Heart, from thy cerements break!

Stream out, O living Sword!

When I am with thee as thou art with me, Life will be self-forgetting power; Love, ever conscious, buoyant, clear, and free, Will flame in darkest hour.