Explore "God; not Gift" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Gray clouds my heaven have covered o'er; / My sea ebbs fast, no more to flow; / Ghastly and dry, my desert shore / Parched, bare, unsightly things doth show.
'Tis thou, Lord, cloudest up my sky; / Stillest the heart-throb of my sea; / Tellest the sad wind not to sigh, / Yea, life itself to wait for thee!
Lord, here I am, empty enough! / My music but a soundless moan! / Blind hope, of all my household stuff, / Leaves me, blind hope, not quite alone!
Shall hope too go, that I may trust / Purely in thee, and spite of all? / Then turn my very heart to dust -- / On thee, on thee, I yet will call.
List! list! his wind among the pines / Hark! hark! that rushing is his sea's! / O Father, these are but thy signs! -- / For thee I hunger, not for these!
Not joy itself, though pure and high -- / No gift will do instead of thee! / Let but my spirit know thee nigh, / And all the world may sleep for me!