Mirls by George MacDonald

The stars are steady abune;
I’ the water they flichter and flee;
But, steady aye, luikin doon
They ken theirsels i’ the sea.

A’ licht, and clear, and free,
God, thou shinest abune;
Yet luik, and see thysel in me,
Aye on me luikin doon.

* * * * *

Throu the heather an’ how gaed the creepin thing,
But abune was the waff o’ an angel’s wing.

* * * * *

Hither an’ thither, here an’ awa,
Into the dub ye maunna fa’;
Oot o’ the dub wad ye come wi’ speed,
Ye maun lift yer han’s abune yer heid.

* * * * *

Whaur’s nor sun nor mune,
Laigh things come abune.

* * * * *

My thouchts are like worms in a starless gloamin
My hert’s like a sponge that’s fillit wi’ gall;
My soul’s like a bodiless ghaist sent a roamin
I’ the haar an’ the mirk till the trumpet call.

Lord, turn ilk worm til a butterflee,
Wring oot my hert, an’ fill ‘t frae thy ain;
My soul syne in patience its weird will dree,
An’ luik for the mornin throu the rain.

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