George MacDonald

Now I had suffered in my life, as humans
Must suffer still, that children they may grow
Suffered to rid me of the self again
Which I had made and chosen and turned to---so
Forgetting the angel-self that evermore,
Move less, while phantom things flit to and fro,
Beholds the Father’s face, and stands before
The throne of revelation, waiting there,
Till we shall find it, far beyond the roar
Of vain report, that hides the world’s despair
And lose ourselves in living: I had borne
Not one pain more than I had need to bear;
And thus to speak of suffering I would scorn,
Even in rhyme, but for what next befell:
The trouble all had ebbed like night from morn,
Dissolved and lost in the absorbing swell
Of some strange peace, a marvel to me unknown.

-George MacDonald