Lord, I have laid my heart upon thy altar
But cannot get the wood to burn;
It hardly flares ere it begins to falter
And to the dark return.
Old sap, or night-fallen dew, makes damp the fuel;
In vain my breath would flame provoke;
Yet see-at every poor attempt's renewal
To thee ascends the smoke!
'Tis all I have-smoke, failure, foiled endeavour,
Coldness and doubt and palsied lack:
Such as I have I send thee!-perfect Giver,
Send thou thy lightning back.
Smoke
George Macdonald
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Poem topics: breath, dark, heart, night, perfect, poor, failure, return, doubt, flame, fallen, attempt, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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