The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 64

THE CHILDREN'S HEAVEN.

The infant lies in blessed ease Upon his mother's breast; No storm, no dark, the baby sees Invade his heaven of rest.

He nothing knows of change or death-- Her face his holy skies; The air he breathes, his mother's breath; His stars, his mother's eyes!

Yet half the soft winds wandering there Are sighs that come of fears; The dew slow falling through that air-- It is the dew of tears; And ah, my child, thy heavenly home Hath storms as well as dew; Black clouds fill sometimes all its dome, And quench the starry blue!

"My smile would win no smile again, If baby saw the things That ache across his mother's brain The while to him she sings!

Thy faith in me is faith in vain-- I am not what I seem: O dreary day, O cruel pain, That wakes thee from thy dream!"

Nay, pity not his dreams so fair, Fear thou no waking grief; Oh, safer he than though thou were Good as his vague belief!

There is a heaven that heaven above Whereon he gazes now; A truer love than in thy kiss; A better friend than thou!

The Father's arms fold like a nest Both thee and him about; His face looks down, a heaven of rest, Where comes no dark, no doubt.

Its mists are clouds of stars that move On, on, with progress rife; Its winds, the goings of his love; Its dew, the dew of life.

We for our children seek thy heart, For them we lift our eyes: Lord, should their faith in us depart, Let faith in thee arise.

When childhood's visions them forsake, To women grown and men, Back to thy heart their hearts oh take, And bid them dream again.

_REJOICE_.

"Rejoice," said the Sun; "I will make thee gay With glory and gladness and holiday; I am dumb, O man, and I need thy voice!"

But man would not rejoice.

"Rejoice in thyself," said he, "O Sun, For thy daily course is a lordly one; In thy lofty place rejoice if thou can: For me, I am only a man."

"Rejoice," said the Wind; "I am free and strong, And will wake in thy heart an ancient song; Hear the roaring woods, my organ noise!"

But man would not rejoice.

"Rejoice, O Wind, in thy strength," said he, "For thou fulfillest thy destiny; Shake the forest, the faint flowers fan; For me, I am only a man."

"Rejoice," said the Night, "with moon and star, For the Sun and the Wind are gone afar; I am here with rest and dreaming choice!"

But man would not rejoice;

For he said--"What is rest to me, I pray, Whose labour leads to no gladsome day?

He only can dream who has hope behind: Alas for me and my kind!"

Then a voice that came not from moon or star, From the sun, or the wind that roved afar, Said, "Man, I am with thee--hear my voice!"

And man said, "I rejoice."

_THE GRACE OF GRACE_.

Had I the grace to win the grace Of some old man in lore complete, My face would worship at his face, And I sit lowly at his feet.

Had I the grace to win the grace Of childhood, loving shy, apart, The child should find a nearer place, And teach me resting on my heart.

Had I the grace to win the grace Of maiden living all above, My soul would trample down the base, That she might have a man to love.

A grace I had no grace to win Knocks now at my half open door: Ah, Lord of glory, come thou in!-- Thy grace divine is all, and more.

_ANTIPHON_.

Daylight fades away.

Is the Lord at hand In the shadows gray Stealing on the land?

Gently from the east Come the shadows gray; But our lowly priest Nearer is than they.

It is darkness quite.

Is the Lord at hand, In the cloak of night Stolen upon the land?

But I see no night, For my Lord is here With him dark is light, With him far is near.

List! the c.o.c.k's awake.

Is the Lord at hand?

Cometh he to make Light in all the land?

Long ago he made Morning in my heart; Long ago he bade Shadowy things depart.

Lo, the dawning hill!

Is the Lord at hand, Come to scatter ill, Ruling in the land?

He hath scattered ill, Ruling in my mind; Growing to his will, Freedom comes, I find.

We will watch all day, Lest the Lord should come; All night waking stay In the darkness dumb.

I will work all day, For the Lord hath come; Down my head will lay All night, glad and dumb.

For we know not when Christ may be at hand; But we know that then Joy is in the land.

For I know that where Christ hath come again, Quietness without care Dwelleth in his men.

_DORCAS_.