Within and Without
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| (Chr. Geb. (short for Geburt Christi, “Birth of Christ”) by Jörg Länger - Linocut, wax, oil, and graphite pencil on paper, cast with resin between two Optiwhite sheets of glass - found here) |
On this one day that blesses all the year,
Just as it comes on any other day:
A feeble child He came, yet not the less
Brought godlike childhood to the aged earth,
Where nothing now is common anymore.
All things hitherto proclaimed God:
The wide-spread air; the luminous mist that hid
The far horizon of the fading sea;
The low persistent music evermore
Flung down upon the sands, and at the base
Of the great rocks that hold it as a cup
Just as it comes on any other day:
A feeble child He came, yet not the less
Brought godlike childhood to the aged earth,
Where nothing now is common anymore.
All things hitherto proclaimed God:
The wide-spread air; the luminous mist that hid
The far horizon of the fading sea;
The low persistent music evermore
Flung down upon the sands, and at the base
Of the great rocks that hold it as a cup
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But men heard not, they knew not God in these[.]
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But when He came in poverty, and low,
A real man to half-unreal men,
A man whose human thoughts were all divine,
The head and upturned face of humankind—
Then God shone forth from all the lowly earth,
And men began to read their Maker there.
Now the Divine descends, pervading all.
Earth is no more a banishment from heaven,
But a lone field among the distant hills,
Well ploughed and sown, whence corn is gathered home.
Now, now we feel the holy mystery
That permeates all being: all is God’s;
And my poor life is terribly sublime.
Where’er I look, I am alone in God,
As this round world is wrapt in folding space;
Behind, before, begin and end in Him:
So all beginnings and all ends are hid;
And He is hid in me, and I in Him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But men heard not, they knew not God in these[.]
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But when He came in poverty, and low,
A real man to half-unreal men,
A man whose human thoughts were all divine,
The head and upturned face of humankind—
Then God shone forth from all the lowly earth,
And men began to read their Maker there.
Now the Divine descends, pervading all.
Earth is no more a banishment from heaven,
But a lone field among the distant hills,
Well ploughed and sown, whence corn is gathered home.
Now, now we feel the holy mystery
That permeates all being: all is God’s;
And my poor life is terribly sublime.
Where’er I look, I am alone in God,
As this round world is wrapt in folding space;
Behind, before, begin and end in Him:
So all beginnings and all ends are hid;
And He is hid in me, and I in Him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
O centre of all forms! O concord’s home!
O world alive in one condensèd world!
O face of Him, in whose heart lay concealed
The fountain thought of all this kingdom of heaven!
Lord, Thou art infinite, and I am Thine!
I sought my God; I pressed importunate;
I spoke to Him, I cried, and in my heart
It seemed He answered me. I said, “O, take
Me nigh to Thee, Thou mighty life of life!
I faint, I die; I am a child alone
’Mid the wild storm, the brooding desert night.”
“Go thou, poor child, to Him who once, like thee,
Trod the highways and deserts of the world.”
“Thou sendest me then, wretched, from Thy sight!
Thou wilt not have me—I am not worth Thy care!”
“I send thee not away; child, think not so;
From the cloud resting on the mountain peak,
I call to guide thee in the path by which
Thou mayst come soonest home unto my heart.
I, I am leading thee. Think not of Him
As He were one and I were one; in Him
Thou wilt find me, for He and I are one.
Learn thou to worship at his lowly shrine,
And see that God dwelleth in lowliness.”
~Excerpt from part 3, scene 10 of Within and Without: A Dramatic Poem by George MacDonald, a verse play that, in 1855, was the author’s first published work.
O world alive in one condensèd world!
O face of Him, in whose heart lay concealed
The fountain thought of all this kingdom of heaven!
Lord, Thou art infinite, and I am Thine!
I sought my God; I pressed importunate;
I spoke to Him, I cried, and in my heart
It seemed He answered me. I said, “O, take
Me nigh to Thee, Thou mighty life of life!
I faint, I die; I am a child alone
’Mid the wild storm, the brooding desert night.”
“Go thou, poor child, to Him who once, like thee,
Trod the highways and deserts of the world.”
“Thou sendest me then, wretched, from Thy sight!
Thou wilt not have me—I am not worth Thy care!”
“I send thee not away; child, think not so;
From the cloud resting on the mountain peak,
I call to guide thee in the path by which
Thou mayst come soonest home unto my heart.
I, I am leading thee. Think not of Him
As He were one and I were one; in Him
Thou wilt find me, for He and I are one.
Learn thou to worship at his lowly shrine,
And see that God dwelleth in lowliness.”
~Excerpt from part 3, scene 10 of Within and Without: A Dramatic Poem by George MacDonald, a verse play that, in 1855, was the author’s first published work.
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