Читать книгу Rampolli - George MacDonald - Страница 17

     The times are all so wretched!

       The heart so full of cares!

     The future, far outstretched,

       A spectral horror wears.

     Wild terrors creep and hover

       With foot so ghastly soft!

     Our souls black midnights cover

       With mountains piled aloft.

     Firm props like reeds are waving;

       For trust is left no stay;

     Our thoughts, like whirlpool raving,

       No more the will obey!

     Frenzy, with eye resistless,

       Decoys from Truth’s defence;

     Life’s pulse is flagging listless,

       And dull is every sense.

     Who hath the cross upheaved

       To shelter every soul?

     Who lives, on high received,

       To make the wounded whole?

     Go to the tree of wonder;

       Give silent longing room;

     Issuing flames asunder

       Thy bad dream will consume.

     Draws thee an angel tender

       In saftey to the strand:

     Lo, at thy feet in splendour

       Lies spread the Promised Land!