My heart is empty. All the fountains that should run
With longing, are in me
Dried up. In all my countryside there is not one
That drips to find the sea.
I have no care for anything thy love can grant
Except the moment’s vain
And hardly noticed filling of the moment’s want
And to be free from pain.
Oh, thou that art unwearying, that dost neither sleep
Nor slumber, who didst take
All care for Lazarus in the careless tomb, oh keep
Watch for me till I wake.
If thou think for me what I cannot think, if thou
Desire for me what I
Cannot desire, my soul’s interior Form, though now
Deep-buried, will not die,
— No more than the insensible dropp’d seed which grows
Through winter ripe for birth
Because, while it forgets, the heaven remembering throws
Sweet influence still on earth,
— Because the heaven, moved moth-like by thy beauty, goes
Still turning round the earth.
c. s. lewis
2 comments:
hey, i like your new look. since you re-decorated the place, does this mean your going to be stopping by more often. :-) btw, kara from inspired kara said thanks for stopping by on her blog. she accidentally posted on aslanschild. hope you are well dear friend. i've been praying for you. love love
hey, thanks! for the comment and the info....and yes, i'm considering coming out of my shell slowly but surely. check out my new blog "gypsy caravan" on the right. i'm working on that idea we talked about....:) thanks for the prayers.
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