From the German of Dessler
O Lord, how happy is the timeWhen in thy love I rest!When from my weariness I climbEven to thy tender breast!The night of sorrow endeth there--Thou art brighter than the sun;And in thy pardon and thy careThe heaven of heaven is won.
Let the world call herself my foe,Or let the world allure--I care not for the world; I goTo this dear friend and sure.And when life's fiercest storms are sentUpon life's wildest sea,My little bark is confidentBecause it holds by thee.
When the law threatens endless deathUpon the dreadful hill,Straightway from her consuming breathMy soul goeth higher still--Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain,And maketh him her home,Whence she will not go out again,And where death cannot come.
I do not fear the wildernessWhere thou hast been before;Nay rather will I daily pressAfter thee, near thee, more!Thou art my food; on thee I lean,Thou makest my heart sing;And to thy heavenly pastures greenAll thy dear flock dost bring.
And if the gate that opens thereBe dark to other men,It is not dark to those who shareThe heart of Jesus then:That is not losing much of lifeWhich is not losing thee,Who art as present in the strifeAs in the victory.
Therefore how happy is the timeWhen in thy love I rest!When from my weariness I climbEven to thy tender breast!The night of sorrow endeth there--Thou art brighter than the sun!And in thy pardon and thy careThe heaven of heaven is won!
Words in this poem
- dreadful a.
- Full of dread or terror; fearful.
- straightway adv.
- Immediately; without loss of time; without delay.
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
From the German of Dessler is in the public domain. This text is taken from The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #9984; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: George MacDonald, From the German of Dessler, in A Microcosm in Terza Rima, and Other Poems (1893), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9984, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/macdonald-poems/from-the-german-of-dessler.html, id L22377.
Form and metre
From the German of Dessler is 48 lines in 6 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 5 of its 6 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCDCD timeA · restB · climbA · breastB · thereC · sunD · careC · wonD
- 2 ABABCDCD foeA · allureB · goA · sureB · sentC · seaD · confidentC · theeD
- 3 ABABCDCD deathA · hillB · breathA · stillB · slainC · homeD · againC · comeD
- 4 ABABCDCD wildernessA · beforeB · pressA · moreB · leanC · singD · greenC · bringD
- 5 ABABC-C- thereA · menB · shareA · thenB · lifeC · thee · strifeC · victory
- 6 ABABCDCD timeA · restB · climbA · breastB · thereC · sunD · careC · wonD
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| O Lord, how happy is the time | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| When in thy love I rest! | 6 | ······ |
| When from my weariness I climb | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| Even to thy tender breast! | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| The night of sorrow endeth there-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thou art brighter than the sun; | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And in thy pardon and thy care | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The heaven of heaven is won. | 8 | ·/˘·/˘·· |
| Let the world call herself my foe, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Or let the world allure-- | 6 | ····˘/ |
| I care not for the world; I go | 8 | ········ |
| To this dear friend and sure. | 6 | ······ |
| And when life's fiercest storms are sent | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Upon life's wildest sea, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| My little bark is confident | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| Because it holds by thee. | 6 | ······ |
| When the law threatens endless death | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Upon the dreadful hill, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Straightway from her consuming breath | 8 | /˘··˘/˘· |
| My soul goeth higher still-- | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| And maketh him her home, | 6 | ······ |
| Whence she will not go out again, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And where death cannot come. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I do not fear the wilderness | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Where thou hast been before; | 6 | ······ |
| Nay rather will I daily press | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| After thee, near thee, more! | 6 | ······ |
| Thou art my food; on thee I lean, | 8 | ········ |
| Thou makest my heart sing; | 6 | ······ |
| And to thy heavenly pastures green | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| All thy dear flock dost bring. | 6 | ······ |
| And if the gate that opens there | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Be dark to other men, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| It is not dark to those who share | 8 | ········ |
| The heart of Jesus then: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| That is not losing much of life | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Which is not losing thee, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Who art as present in the strife | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| As in the victory. | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| Therefore how happy is the time | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| When in thy love I rest! | 6 | ······ |
| When from my weariness I climb | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| Even to thy tender breast! | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| The night of sorrow endeth there-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thou art brighter than the sun! | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And in thy pardon and thy care | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The heaven of heaven is won! | 8 | ·/˘·/˘·· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.