English Poetry III: From Tennyson to Whitman.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 690. That Holy Thing |
| | | George Mac Donald (1824–1905) |
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| THEY all were looking for a king | |
| To slay their foes and lift them high: | |
| Thou cam’st, a little baby thing | |
| That made a woman cry. | |
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| O Son of Man, to right my lot | 5 |
| Naught but Thy presence can avail; | |
| Yet on the road Thy wheels are not, | |
| Nor on the sea Thy sail! | |
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| My how or when Thou wilt not heed, | |
| But come down Thine own secret stair, | 10 |
| That Thou mayst answer all my need— | |
| Yea, every bygone prayer. | |
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