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Sunday, August 13, 2006

Diary of an Old Soul, August 13 - 19

13. Thou art the truth, the life. Thou, Lord, wilt see
To every question that perplexes me.
I am thy being; and my dignity
Is written with my name down in thy book;
Thou wilt care for it. Never shall I think
Of anything that thou mightst overlook:--
In faith-born triumph at thy feet I sink.

14. Thou carest more for that which I call mine,
In same sort--better manner than I could,
Even if I knew creation's ends divine,
Rousing in me this vague desire of good.
Thou art more to me than my desires' whole brood;
Thou art the only person, and I cry
Unto the father I of this my I.

15. Thou who inspirest prayer, then bend'st thine ear;
It, crying with love's grand respect to hear!
I cannot give myself to thee aright--
With the triumphant uttermost of gift;
That cannot be till I am full of light--
To perfect deed a perfect will must lift:--
Inspire, possess, compel me, first of every might.

16. I do not wonder men can ill believe
Who make poor claims upon thee, perfect Lord;
Then most I trust when most I would receive.
I wonder not that such do pray and grieve--
The God they think, to be God is not fit.
Then only in thy glory I seem to sit,
When my heart claims from thine an infinite accord.

17. More life I need ere I myself can be.
Sometimes, when the eternal tide ebbs low,
A moment weary of my life I grow--
Weary of my existence' self, I mean,
Not of its plodding, not its wind and snow
Then to thy knee trusting I turn, and lean:
Thou will'st I live, and I do will with thee.

18. Dost thou mean sometimes that we should forget thee,
Dropping the veil of things 'twixt thee and us?--
Ah, not that we should lose thee and regret thee!
But that, we turning from our windows thus,
The frost-fixed God should vanish from the pane,
Sun-melted, and a moment, Father, let thee
Look like thyself straight into heart and brain.

19. For sometimes when I am busy among men,
With heart and brain an open thoroughfare
For faces, words, and thoughts other than mine,
And a pause comes at length--oh, sudden then,
Back throbs the tide with rush exultant rare;
And for a gentle moment I divine
Thy dawning presence flush my tremulous air.

The above is excerpted from George MacDonald's A Book of Strife in the Form of The Diary of an Old Soul (Public Domain, 1880). For further information see this post. These are the entries for/from August 13 - 19.

4 comments:

Julana said...

I'm feeling like an old soul myself.
I like this:
my dignity
Is written with my name down in thy book;
Thou wilt care for it. Never shall I think
Of anything that thou mightst overlook:--

Martin LaBar said...

I liked that, too.

Thanks.

Joy said...

I didn't know about Marillier's beleifs, thanks for the info. I read the blurb from Wolkskin at the end of one of the books, and it looks good. I'm just waiting on an opportunity to go to Barnes and Nobles.

Martin LaBar said...

Thanks, Joy.

If you are really interested, I've posted about Marillier. You can start here. God willing, I'll post on the last of the Sevenwaters trilogy soon.