Therefore we thank Thee for our little light, that is dappled with shadow. We thank Thee who hast moved us to building, to finding, to forming at the ends of our fingers and beams of our eyes. -T.S. Eliot, O Light Invisible
Thursday, March 3, 2016
Diary Of An Old Soul, March 3 (George MacDonald)
And in the perfect time, O perfect God,
When we are in our home, our natal home,
When joy shall carry every sacred load,
And from its life and peace no heart shall roam,
What if thou make us able to make like thee-
To light with moons, to cloth with greenery,
To hang gold sunsets o'er a rose and purple sea!
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