Rampolli. George MacDonald

           So many search, round all ways going,

             With face distorted, anxious eye,

           Who call themselves the wise and knowing,

             Yet ever pass this treasure by!

           One man believes that he has found it,

             And what he has is nought but gold;

           One takes the world by sailing round it:

             The deed recorded, all is told!

           One man runs well to gain the laurel;

             Another, in Victory’s fane a niche:

           By different Shows in bright apparel

             All are befooled, not one made rich!

           Hath He not then to you appeared?

             Have ye forgot Him turning wan

           Whose side for love of us was speared—

             The scorned, rejected Son of Man?

           Of Him have you not read the story—

             Heard one poor word upon the wind?

           What heavenly goodness was his glory,

             Or what a gift he left behind?

           How he descended from the Father,

             Of loveliest mother infant grand?

           What Word the nations from him gather?

             How many bless his healing hand?

           How, thereto urged by mere love, wholly

             He gave himself to us away,

           And down in earth, foundation lowly,

             First stone of God’s new city, lay?

           Can such news fail to touch us mortals?

             Is not to know the man pure bliss?

           Will you not open all your portals

             To him who closed for you the abyss?

           Will you not let the world go faring?

             For Him your dearest wish deny?

           To him alone your heart keep baring,

             Who you has shown such favour high?

           Hero of love, oh, take me, take me!

             Thou art my life! my world! my gold!

           Should every earthly thing forsake me,

             I know who will me scatheless hold!

           I see Thee my lost loves restoring!

             True evermore to me thou art!

           Low at thy feet heaven sinks adoring,

             And yet thou dwellest in my heart!