I Follow As I Can
7×9″ oil on canvas
July 24, 2012
Inspired by the following passage from George MacDonald’s “Written For One in Sore Pain”:
I were still a wandering sheep
But for thee, O Shepherd-man!
Following now, I faint, I weep,
Yet I follow as I can!
For Though He Slay Me, I Will Trust in God
8×10″ pen and colored pencil on paper
June 2, 2012
Inspired by the following passage from George MacDonald’s “Story of a Sea Shore”:
Dome up, O heaven, yet higher o’er my head!
Back, back, horizon; widen out my world!
Rush in, O fathomless sea of the Unknown!
For, though He slay me, I will trust in God.
Going Down to Lower Things With Lofty Cares
8×10″ pen and colored pencil on paper
June 2, 2012
Inspired by the following passage from George MacDonald’s “A Hidden Life”:
She laboured as before; though when she would,
And Nature urged not, she, with privilege,
Would spare from hours of toil–read in her room,
Or wander through the moorland to the hills;
There on the apex of the world would stand,
As on an altar, burning, soul and heart–
Herself the sacrifice of faith and prayer;
Gaze in the face of the inviting blue
That domed her round; ask why it should be blue;
Pray yet again; and with love-strengthened heart
Go down to lower things with lofty cares.
A Shadowy Fear, Long Haunting the Horizon of Her Soul
8×10″ pen and colored pencil on paper
June 11, 2012
Buy prints at https://www.etsy.com/listing/125817893/a-shadowy-fear-long-haunting-the-horizon
Inspired by the following passage from George MacDonald’s “Story of the Sea Shore”:
Months passed; he came not; and a shadowy fear,
Long haunting the horizon of her soul,
In deeper gloom and sharper form drew nigh;
And growing in bulk, possessed her atmosphere,
And lost all shape, because it filled all space,
And reached beyond the bounds of consciousness…
8×10″ marker and pastel on paper
January 19, 2013
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Inspired by the following passage from George MacDonald’s Lilith:
What I did or thought, I referred constantly to her, and rejoiced to believe that, while doing her work in absolute independence, she was most at home by my side.
Never for me did she neglect the smallest child, and my love only quickened my sense of duty.
To love her and to do my duty, seemed, not indeed one, but inseparable. She might suggest something I should do; she might ask me what she ought to do; but she never seemed to suppose that I, any more than she, would like to do, or could care about anything except what must be done.
