Since the first of the year I’ve been reading a daily devotional written in the 18th century by a Scotsman named George MacDonald. A recent entry is so beautiful that I have to share it.
“I search my heart – I search, and find no faith.
Hidden he may be in its many folds –
I see him not revealed in all the world
Duty’s firm shape thins to a misty wraith.
No good seems likely. To and fro I am hurled.
I have to stay. Only obedience holds –
I haste, I rise, I do the thing he saith.”
Isn’t it lovely?