The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 65

If I might guess, then guess I would That, mid the gathered folk, This gentle Dorcas one day stood, And heard when Jesus spoke.

She saw the woven seamless coat-- Half envious, for his sake: "Oh, happy hands," she said, "that wrought The honoured thing to make!"

Her eyes with longing tears grow dim: She never can come nigh To work one service poor for him For whom she glad would die!

But, hark, he speaks! Oh, precious word!

And she has heard indeed!

"When did we see thee naked, Lord, And clothed thee in thy need?"

"The King shall answer, Inasmuch As to my brethren ye Did it--even to the least of such-- Ye did it unto me."

Home, home she went, and plied the loom, And Jesus' poor arrayed.

She died--they wept about the room, And showed the coats she made.

_MARRIAGE SONG_.

"They have no more wine!" she said.

But they had enough of bread; And the vessels by the door Held for thirst a plenteous store: Yes, _enough_; but Love divine Turned the water into wine!

When should wine like water flow, But when home two glad hearts go!

When, in sacred bondage bound, Soul in soul hath freedom found!

Such the time when, holy sign, Jesus turned the water wine.

Good is all the feasting then; Good the merry words of men; Good the laughter and the smiles; Good the wine that grief beguiles;-- Crowning good, the Word divine Turning water into wine!

Friends, the Master with you dwell!

Daily work this miracle!

When fair things too common grow, Bring again their heavenly show!

Ever at your table dine, Turning water into wine!

So at last you shall descry All the patterns of the sky: Earth a heaven of short abode; Houses temples unto G.o.d; Water-pots, to vision fine, Br.i.m.m.i.n.g full of heavenly wine.

_BLIND BARTIMEUS_.

As Jesus went into Jericho town, Twas darkness all, from toe to crown, About blind Bartimeus.

He said, "My eyes are more than dim, They are no use for seeing him: No matter--he can see us!"

"Cry out, cry out, blind brother--cry; Let not salvation dear go by.-- Have mercy, Son of David."

Though they were blind, they both could hear-- They heard, and cried, and he drew near; And so the blind were saved.

O Jesus Christ, I am very blind; Nothing comes through into my mind; 'Tis well I am not dumb: Although I see thee not, nor hear, I cry because thou may'st be near: O son of Mary, come!

I hear it through the all things blind: Is it thy voice, so gentle and kind-- "Poor eyes, no more be dim"?

A hand is laid upon mine eyes; I hear, and hearken, see, and rise;-- 'Tis He! I follow him!

_COME UNTO ME_.

Come unto me, the Master says:-- But how? I am not good; No thankful song my heart will raise, Nor even wish it could.

I am not sorry for the past, Nor able not to sin; The weary strife would ever last If once I should begin!

Hast thou no burden then to bear?

No action to repent?

Is all around so very fair?

Is thy heart quite content?

Hast thou no sickness in thy soul?

No labour to endure?

Then go in peace, for thou art whole; Thou needest not his cure.

Ah, mock me not! I often sigh; I have a nameless grief, A faint sad pain--but such that I Can look for no relief.

Come, come to him who made thy heart; Come weary and oppressed; To come to Jesus is thy part, His part to give thee rest.

New grief, new hope he will bestow, Thy grief and pain to quell; Into thy heart himself will go, And that will make thee well.

_MORNING HYMN_.

O Lord of life, thy quickening voice Awakes my morning song!

In gladsome words I would rejoice That I to thee belong.

I see thy light, I feel thy wind; The world, it is thy word; Whatever wakes my heart and mind, Thy presence is, my Lord.

The living soul which I call me Doth love, and long to know; It is a thought of living thee, Nor forth of thee can go.

Therefore I choose my highest part, And turn my face to thee; Therefore I stir my inmost heart To worship fervently.

Lord, let me live and will this day-- Keep rising from the dead; Lord, make my spirit good and gay-- Give me my daily bread.

Within my heart, speak, Lord, speak on, My heart alive to keep, Till comes the night, and, labour done, In thee I fall asleep.