The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 62

Christmas-Days are still in store:-- Will they change--steal faded hither?

Or come fresh as heretofore, Summering all our winter weather?

Surely they will keep their bloom All the countless pacing ages: In the country whence they come Children only are the sages!

Hither, every hour and year, Children come to cure our oldness-- Oft, alas, to gather sear Unbelief, and earthy boldness!

Men they grow and women cold, Selfish, pa.s.sionate, and plaining!

Ever faster they grow old:-- On the world, ah, eld is gaining!

Child, whose childhood ne'er departs!

Jesus, with the perfect father!

Drive the age from parents' hearts; To thy heart the children gather.

Send thy birth into our souls, With its grand and tender story.

Hark! the gracious thunder rolls!-- News to men! to G.o.d old glory!

_CHRISTMAS, 1884_.

Though in my heart no Christmas glee, Though my song-bird be dumb, Jesus, it is enough for me That thou art come.

What though the loved be scattered far, Few at the board appear, In thee, O Lord, they gathered are, And thou art here.

And if our hearts be low with lack, They are not therefore numb; Not always will thy day come back-- Thyself will come!

_AN OLD STORY_.

I.

In the ancient house of ages, See, they cannot rest!

With a hope, which awe a.s.suages, 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 a.s.s, dumb-staring, Feel the skirts of good Fold them in dull-blessed sharing Of infinitude.

Make a little room betwixt you, Pray you, a.s.s and Cow!

Sure we shall, if I kneel next you, Know each other now!

To the pit-fallen comes salvation-- Love is never loath!

Here we are, thy whole creation, Waiting, Lord, thy growth!

III.

On the slopes of Bethlehem, Round their resting sheep, Shepherds sat, and went and came, Guarding holy sleep; But the silent, high dome-s.p.a.ces, Airy galleries, Thronged they were with watching faces, Thronged with open eyes.

Far across the desert floor, Come, slow-drawing nigher, Sages deep in starry lore, Priests of burning Fire.

In the sky they read his story, And, through starlight cool, They come riding to the Glory, To the Wonderful.

IV.

Babe and mother, coming Mage, Shepherd, a.s.s, and cow!

Angels watching the new age, Time's intensest Now!

Heaven down-brooding, Earth upstraining, Far ends closing in!

Sure the eternal tide is gaining On the strand of sin!

See! but see! Heaven's chapel-master Signs with lifted hand; Winds divine blow fast and faster, Swelling bosoms grand.

Hark the torrent-joy let slip!

Hark the great throats ring!

Glory! Peace! Good-fellows.h.i.+p!

And a Child for king!

_A SONG FOR CHRISTMAS_.

Hark, in the steeple the dull bell swinging Over the furrows ill ploughed by Death!

Hark the bird-babble, the loud lark singing!

Hark, from the sky, what the prophet saith!

Hark, in the pines, the free Wind, complaining-- Moaning, and murmuring, "Life is bare!"

Hark, in the organ, the caught Wind, outstraining, Jubilant rise in a soaring prayer!

Toll for the burying, s.e.xton tolling!

Sing for the second birth, angel Lark!

Moan, ye poor Pines, with the Past condoling!

Burst out, brave Organ, and kill the Dark!

II.

Sit on the ground, and immure thy sorrow; I will give freedom to mine in song!

Haunt thou the tomb, and deny the morrow; I will go watch in the dawning long!

For I shall see them, and know their faces-- Tenderer, sweeter, and s.h.i.+ning more; Clasp the old self in the new embraces; Gaze through their eyes' wide open door.