sermonindex
[b]Smoke[i]by George McDonald
Lord, I have laid my heart upon the 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 endeavor,
Coldness and doubt and palsied lack;
Such as I have I send thee! - perfect Giver,
Send thou thy lightning back.