...I wake, and, lo! I have forgot,
And drifted out upon an ebbing sea!
My soul that was at rest now resteth not,
For I am with myself and not with thee;
Truth seems a blind moon in a glaring morn,
Where nothing is but sick-heart vanity...
[George Mcdonald: "Diary of an Old Soul"]
After the transcendance of worship, how quickly my heart turns away.
And drifted out upon an ebbing sea!
My soul that was at rest now resteth not,
For I am with myself and not with thee;
Truth seems a blind moon in a glaring morn,
Where nothing is but sick-heart vanity...
[George Mcdonald: "Diary of an Old Soul"]
After the transcendance of worship, how quickly my heart turns away.
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