The Poetry Corner

The Holy Midnight

By George MacDonald

Ah, holy midnight of the soul, When stars alone are high; When winds are resting at their goal, And sea-waves only sigh! Ambition faints from out the will; Asleep sad longing lies; All hope of good, all fear of ill, All need of action dies; Because God is, and claims the life He kindled in thy brain; And thou in him, rapt far from strife, Diest and liv'st again.