Come To Me

Come to me, come to me, O my God;
Come to me everywhere!
Let the trees mean thee, and the grassy sod,
And the water and the air!

For thou art so far that I often doubt,
As on every side I stare,
Searching within, and looking without,
If thou canst be anywhere.

How did men find thee in days of old?
How did they grow so sure?
They fought in thy name, they were glad and bold,
They suffered, and kept themselves pure!

But now they say-neither above the sphere
Nor down in the heart of man,
But solely in fancy, ambition, and fear
The thought of thee began.

If only that perfect tale were true
Which ages have not made old,
Which of endless many makes one anew,
And simplicity manifold!

But
he
taught that they who did his word
The truth of it sure would know:
I will try to do it: if he be lord
Again the old faith will glow;

Again the old spirit-wind will blow
That he promised to their prayer;
And obeying the Son, I too shall know
His father everywhere!

by George MacDonald

Comments (48)

Add a comment.nice poem,yes we lack the initiative..
i was going to leave a comment BUT the commercial is almost over and i don't want to miss a SECOND of the soap opera! ! ! ;) bri the lawn, too, can wait. and the windows, oil change, and walking the dog. Oh, Honey, can ya bring me another BEER? ! !
Men lament that they have no time to do things needed being done. Yet, they sit wasting time, watching T.V. for hours at a time. Not associating it with their apparent laziness and lack of initiative. RoseAnn V. Shawiak WELL YES and no ..some do some other not! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! GREAT! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 10+++++
So true. So true. Lenient and salient. A thought-provoking piece, dear poetess.
Haha. I see your frustration here. Men are the there for us to struggle for and make us sensible. :)
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