“The God who is ever uttering himself…”

George MacDonald wrote: “The God who is ever uttering himself in the changeful profusions of nature; who takes millions of years to form a soul that shall understand him and be blessed; who never needs to be, and never is, in haste; who welcomes the simplest thought of truth or beauty as the return for seed he has sown upon the old fallows of eternity, who rejoices in the response of a faltering moment to the age-long cry of his wisdom in the streets; the God of music, of painting, of building, the Lord of Hosts, the God of mountains and oceans; the God of history working in time unto Christianity—this God is the God of little children, and he alone can be perfectly abandonedly simple and devoted.” (Unspoken Sermons, Series 1, “The Child In The Midst.”)