MacDonald

The Diary of an Old Soul
George MacDonald

September 18

Why is it that so often I return
From social converse with a spirit worn,
A lack, a disappointment--even a sting
Of shame, as for some low, unworthy thing?--
Because I have not, careful, first of all,
Set my door open wide, back to the wall,
Ere I at others' doors did knock and call.

---
Father, again and again I tire, and groan, and remember
the futility of my former days, and wonder that I
ever will progress, with all my past debt burdening
the way and shadowing my path.

But if a shadow stretches before me, a warmth is on
my back--of the Sun, finding me and glowing
to cheer me along and along, sometimes disappearing
as I dip, and reacquainting me with the heat of life
as I rise, and run again.
---

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Words by Pierce Pettis and Andrew Peterson

Album: The Far Country

(John 12:24)

This is not the end here at this grave
This is just a hole that someone made
Every hole was made to fill
And every heart can feel it still--
Our nature hates a vacuum

This is not the hardest part of all
This is just the seed that has to fall
All our lives we till the ground
Until we lay our sorrows down
And watch the sky for rain

There is more
More than all this pain
More than all the falling down
And the getting up again
There is more
More than we can see
From our tiny vantage point
In this vast eternity
There is more

A thing resounds when it rings true
Ringing all the bells inside of you
Like a golden sky on a summer eve
Your heart is tugging at your sleeve
And you cannot say why
There must be more

There is more
More than we can stand
Standing in the glory
Of a love that never ends
There is more
More than we can guess
More and more, forever more
And not a second less

There is more than what the naked eye can see
Clothing all our days with mystery
Watching over everything
Wilder than our wildest dreams
Could ever dream to be
There is more