That Holy Thing.
They all were looking for a king To slay their foes, and lift them high: Thou cam'st a little baby thing That made a woman cry. O son of man, to right my lot Nought but thy presence can avail; Yet on the road thy wheels are not, Nor on the sea thy sail! My fancied ways why shouldst thou heed? Thou com'st down thine own secret stair: Com'st down to answer all my need, Yea, every bygone prayer!
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"They all were looking for a king..."
"That Holy Thing." is a quintessential example of George MacDonald's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...