The stars are spinning their threads, And the clouds are the dust that flies, And the suns are weaving them up For the day when the sleepers arise.
The ocean in music rolls, The gems are turning to eyes, And the trees are gathering souls For the day when the sleepers arise.
The weepers are learning to smile, And laughter to glean the sighs, And hearts to bury their care and guile For the day when the sleepers arise.
Oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy-red, The larks and the glimmers and flows! The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, And the something that nobody knows!
George MacDonald (1824–1905) was a Scottish writer and preacher. In an anthology of his works, C.S. Lewis wrote, “I know hardly any other writer who seems to be closer, or more continually close, to the Spirit of Christ Himself.”
