Hymn for a Sick Girl by George MacDonald

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Father, in the dark I lay, / Thirsting for the light, / Helpless, but for hope alway / In thy father-might.

Out of darkness came the morn, / Out of death came life, / I, and faith, and hope, new-born, / Out of moaning strife!

So, one morning yet more fair, / I shall, joyous-brave, / Sudden breathing loftier air, / Triumph o'er the grave.

Though this feeble body lie / Underneath the ground, / Wide awake, not sleeping, I / Shall in him be found.

But a morn yet fairer must / Quell this inner gloom -- / Resurrection from the dust / Of a deeper tomb!

Father, wake thy little child; / Give me bread and wine / Till my spirit undefiled / Rise and live in thine.

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