Let your Light so Shine by George MacDonald

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Sometimes, O Lord, thou lightest in my head / A lamp that well might pharos all the lands; / Anon the light will neither rise nor spread: / Shrouded in danger gray the beacon stands!

A pharos? Oh dull brain! poor dying lamp / Under a bushel with an earthy smell!

Mouldering it stands, in rust and eating damp, / While the slow oil keeps oozing from its cell!

For me it were enough to be a flower / Knowing its root in thee, the Living, hid, / Ordained to blossom at the appointed hour, / And wake or sleep as thou, my Nature, bid;

But hear my brethren in their darkling fright!

Hearten my lamp that it may shine abroad / Then will they cry -- Lo, there is something bright!

Who kindled it if not the shining God?

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