A Baby-Sermon

The lightning and thunder
They go and they come:
But the stars and the stillness
Are always at home.

George MacDonald

George MacDonald (1824–1905) was a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister best known for his fairy tales and fantasy novels. He was a pioneer in the fantasy genre, influencing notable writers such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. His major works include "Phantastes" and "Lilith," as well as numerous poems and other literary works. MacDonald's writings are characterized by their imaginative qualities and deep spiritual insight.

George MacDonald

The Mistletoe.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

To A. J. Scott

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

My Heart Thy Lark

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

The Grace Of Grace

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

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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 whi...

George MacDonald

Christmas Day And Every Day

    Star high,
    Baby low:
    'Twixt the two
    Wise men go;
    Find the baby,
    Grasp the star--
    Heirs of all things
    Near and far!

George MacDonald

Baby.

Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry twinkles left in.

Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, wh...

George MacDonald

When The Storm Was Proudest

    When the storm was proudest,
    And the wind was loudest,
I heard the hollow caverns drinking down below;
    When the stars were bright,
    And the ground was white,
I heard the grasses springing underneath the snow.

    Many voices spake--
    The river to the lake,
And the iron-ribbed sky was talking to the sea;
    And every starry spark
    Made music with the dark,
And said how bright and beautiful everything must be.

    When the sun was setting,
    All the clouds were getting
Beautiful and silvery in the rising moon;
    Beneath the leafless trees
    Wrangling in the breeze,
I could hardly see them for the leaves of June.

    When the day had ended,
    And the night descended,
I heard the sound of streams ...

George MacDonald

Christmas Meditation

    He who by a mother's love
        Made the wandering world his own,
    Every year comes from above,
        Comes the parted to atone,
        Binding Earth to the Father's throne.

    Nay, thou comest every day!
        No, thou never didst depart!
    Never hour hast been away!
        Always with us, Lord, thou art,
        Binding, binding heart to heart!

George MacDonald

An Old Story

    In the ancient house of ages,
        See, they cannot rest!
    With a hope, which awe assuages,
        Tremble all the blest.
    For the son and heir eternal,
        To be son yet more,
    Leaves his stately chair supernal
        For the earth's low floor;

    Leaves the room so high and old,
        Leaves the all-world hearth,
    Seeks the out-air, frosty-cold,
        Of the twilight earth--
    To be throned in newer glory
        In a mother's lap,
    Gather up our broken story,
        And right every hap.


II.

    There Earth's foster-baby lies,
        Sleep-dimmed all his graces,
    'Neath four stars of parents' eyes,
        And two heavens of faces!
    See! the cow and ass, dumb-staring,...

George MacDonald