Yes, Master, when thou comest thou shalt find <br />A little faith on earth, if I am here! <br />Thou know'st how oft I turn to thee my mind. <br />How sad I wait until thy face appear! <br /> <br />Hast thou not ploughed my thorny ground full sore, <br />And from it gathered many stones and sherds? <br />Plough, plough and harrow till it needs no more- <br />Then sow thy mustard-seed, and send thy birds. <br /> <br />I love thee, Lord; and if I yield to fears, <br />Nor trust with triumph that pale doubt defies, <br />Remember, Lord, 'tis nigh two thousand years, <br />And I have never seen thee with mine eyes! <br /> <br />And when I lift them from the wondrous tale, <br />See, all about me hath so strange a show! <br />Is that thy river running down the vale? <br />Is that thy wind that through the pines doth blow? <br /> <br />Could'st thou right verily appear again, <br />The same who walked the paths of Palestine, <br />And here in England teach thy trusting men <br />In church and field and house, with word and sign? <br /> <br />Here are but lilies, sparrows, and the rest! <br />My hands on some dear proof would light and stay! <br />But my heart sees John leaning on thy breast, <br />And sends them forth to do what thou dost say.<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-see-thee-not/
