Fatherhood is At the Great World's Core
A poem by George MacDonald (1824-1905)
To My Father
Take of the first fruits, Father, of thy care,
Wrapped in the fresh leaves of my gratitude
Late waked for early gifts ill understood;
Claiming in all my harvests rightful share,
Whether with song that mounts the joyful air
I praise my God; or, in yet deeper mood,
Sit dumb because I know a speechless good,
Needing no voice, but all the soul for prayer.
Thou hast been faithful to my highest need;
And I, thy debtor, ever, evermore,
Shall never feel the grateful burden sore.
Yet most I thank thee, not for any deed,
But for the sense thy living self did breed
That fatherhood is at the great world's core.
I was first introduced to this George MacDonald poem in the early 1990s by Dr. Rod Rosenbladt—and it has stuck with me ever since. For an introduction to the life and work of George MacDonald, click here. C.S. Lewis once famously wrote, “I know hardly any other writer who seems to be closer, or more continually close, to the Spirit of Christ Himself. I have never concealed the fact that I regarded him as my master; indeed I fancy I have never written a book in which I did not quote from him.”
If you haven’t heard the interview I recorded with my own father on the Pilot Episode of The Humble Skeptic, Father’s Day would be a great day to remedy that :)
The Humble Skeptic is a listener-supported podcast. To support this work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.