Saturday, July 30, 2005

Twilight Majesty

July 17, 2005

The waters calm
as the eve draws on;
crickets sing
their darkening theme.
Cicadas now are few,
but they still sing
still sing they do,
and hymn Your twilight majesty-
they bear Your glory unto me.

Listen close to water’s swell
here beside the city well;
mark the trill of bird,
the moan of beast;
the greatest hymn,
and also least.

What have I deserved
at the hands of Heaven
to sit beside this
portal to another time and place
partaking, solitary, of Your grace?

Easily do clouds
drift on the fading sky-
weary do I pen the beauty of the sight.
All within me yearns for light
against the pale of coming night.
I grieve the loss of clarity,
but glory in the hymn of twilight.

All is well.
Day shall come again
too soon.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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