George MacDonald,
A Book of Strife in the Form of The Diary of an Old Soul
“ Shall what bore late the dust-mood, think and brood Till it bring forth the great believing mood? Or that which bore the grand mood, bald and peeled, Sit down to croon the shabby sensual song, To hug itself, and sink from wrong to meaner wrong? 4. In the low mood, the mere man acts alone, Moved by impulses which, if from within, Yet far outside the centre man begin; But in the grand mood, every softest tone Comes from the living God at very heart— From thee who infinite core of being art, Thee who didst call our names ere ever we could sin. ”
