A Prayer For The Past: Now Far From My Old Northern Land,
Poem By George MacDonald
Now far from my old northern land,
I live where gentle winters pass;
Where green seas lave a wealthy strand,
And unsown is the grass
Where gorgeous sunsets claim the scope
Of gazing heaven to spread their show,
Hang scarlet clouds in the topmost cope,
With fringes flaming low;
With one beside me in whose eyes
Once more old Nature finds a home;
There treasures up her changeful skies,
Her phosphorescent foam.
O'er a new joy this day we bend,
Soft power from heaven our souls to lift;
A wondering wonder thou dost lend
With loan outpassing gift-
A little child. She sees the sun-
Once more incarnates thy old law:
One born of two, two born in one,
Shall into one three draw.
But is there no day creeping on
Which I should tremble to renew?
I thank thee, Lord, for what is gone-
Thine is the future too!
And are we not at home in Thee,
And all this world a visioned show,
That, knowing what Abroad is, we
What Home is too may know