The Diary of an Old Soul

by George MacDonald

George MacDonald's The Diary of an Old Soul has provided strength and inspiration for countless Christians down through the years. The poem-a-day faith journal was a notable favorite of C.S. Lewis, who used to read a portion of it every night, borrowing its "living house" image for use in his own classic, Mere Christianity. Among its other admirers were his brother Warren, American missionary Elisabeth Elliot, and more recently the best-selling Christian author John Eldredge.

Also included in this edition is MacDonald's extended poem, "The Disciple," originally published in 1897.

Genres: Poetry, Christian, Classics, Christianity, Theology, Nonfiction, Spirituality

184 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1890

About the author

George MacDonald was a Scottish author, poet and Christian Congregational minister. He became a pioneering figure in the field of modern fantasy literature and the mentor of fellow-writer Lewis Carroll. In addition to his fairy tales, MacDonald wrote several works of Christian theology, including several collections of sermons.

Reviews

[Cindy Rollins · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has followed me from my early 20s until now in my 60s. It has made every move and every purge but I had never read it.

This year I did. A year when my reading stats are down because my life hardships are up. It was the perfect right year to thrash against reality and read this book of another’s strife. Yes, this book is titled A Book of Strife in the Form of The Diary of an Old Soul. I read these poems and think George is home free now and someday so will I be. His hopes ARE. Mine are not credible….yet.

Go, my beloved children, live your life.
Wounded, faint, bleeding, never yield the strife.
Stunned, fallen—awake, arise, and fight again.
Before you victory stands, with shining train

Of hopes not credible until they are.

Beyond morass and mountain swells the star.
Of perfect love—the home of longing heart and brain.

[Amanda Stevens · Rating 5 out of 5]

How to review the diary of a soul? Limited research shows this book of poems was originally "privately printed," its original title A Book of Strife, in the form of the Diary of an Old Soul. I doubt MacDonald ever expected more than his family to read this work, much less review it. In these verses, he wrestles (strives?) with himself, with God or his understanding of Him, with the imperfectness of the world around him and the heart within him. Ultimately he holds onto the promises that someday this world and his soul will be redeemed perfectly. The poetry is beautiful, always. The musings and feelings put forth are raw, searching, hurt, unguarded, and worth the time it takes to soak them in.

Yes, some of it is difficult to decipher, but not through any flaw of the poet. I had to reread some passages, and careful attention to punctuation (not only line breaks) helped me as well. Though it does appear (from a few of the verses in "December," especially the 25th) that MacDonald wrote a verse a day for a year, the themes often carry through several consecutive days. "September" is one complete thought. My recommendation is to read not a day at a time but a month at a time.

To give the prospective reader a taste of the beauty and honesty found herein, a few quotes follow.

p. 35 ~ "Let my soul talk to Thee in ordered words,
O King of kings, O Lord of only lords!
When I am thinking Thee within my heart
From the broken reflex be not far apart.
The troubled water, dim with upstirred soil
Makes not the image which it can yet spoil
Come nearer, Lord, and smooth the wrinkled coil."

p. 54 ~ "Afresh I seek Thee. Lead me--once more I pray--
Even should it be against my will, Thy way.
Let me not feel Thee foreign any hour,
Or shrink from Thee as an estranged power.
Through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through stark dismay,
Through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower,
Draw me to Thee Who art my only day."

p. 70,1 ~ "Master, Thou workest with such common things--
Low souls, weak hearts, I mean--and hast to use,
Therefore, such common means and rescuings,
That hard we find it, as we sit and muse,
To think Thou workest in us verily:
Bad sea-boats we, and manned with wretched crews--
That doubt the Captain, watch the storm-spray flee."

[Justin Wiggins · Rating 5 out of 5]

The great Scotsman's novels, poems, fairy tales, and fantasy books are amazing in their own right, but this is my favorite one by George MacDonald.

I found this particular edition with the wonderful C. S. Lewis quote on the cover on Christmas Eve in 2017, and my Scottish friend David Jack signed it for me at The Eagle and Child pub in Oxford, England in 2018. I brought it with me to Scotland, Ireland, and England in September and October of 2021. I am looking forward to re-reading it again!

[Andre · Rating 5 out of 5]

MacDonald explains the transcendence of Christ better than some of his prominent first century disciples. And his premise throughout the poem seems to be the assertion "The truth is who, not what."
The poem makes 'Born Again Christianity' aka evangelicalism look rather......... narrow-minded??? Look, I am very tolerant of people's different views on religion. But evangelicalism monopolizes the 'market' of Christianity in the American south (I'm from Texas). Sooooooo, this poem, as well as other reads, can sometimes be a fresh escape from the tyranny of stated viewpoint.
I even heard that C.S. Lewis (never was a big fan of C.S.) called MacDonald his 'master.'
I have never understood Christ and Christianity deeply until being introduced to MacDonald. Now I have finally finished the year round poem. I'll probably just keep going...

[Carrie Brownell · Rating 5 out of 5]

I took a little time to work my way through this one but loved every second.

[Jeremy Feghali · Rating 5 out of 5]

I dont think I've ever finished a book and then immediately went back to page 1 and started it again. This will be a life-long practice of reading through this book. Incredible. Here's a sonnet I wrote in 10 minutes to try to convince you to read it:

N'er before has a poem book moved me,
They've always been just tired-toil and chore.
Yes, I know, it's but immaturity
That makes one see no beauty, just a bore.
But good ol' George has forever changed me
Into a poet - me, the hard-heart troll!
Through this sweet book he revealed the beauty,
Through scores of verse, like constant waves that roll.
Three hundred sixty five meditations,
Prayers and cries to God put to verse and rhyme,
A master, clearly, such dedication.
You should read this, it's one heck of a time!
And like the restaurant that bears his name,
I want this book to likewise have such fame.

[Ashley · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm not one to read poetry, but George MacDonald definitely didn't disappoint. I read the whole thing in a little over a week, but I suggest that you read it as a morning devotional. I am definitely planning to do so after I lend it to my Grandfather.



As the previous commenter said... sip and savor

[Michelle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow- I had no idea that George McDonald was such an incredible poet. His poems were beautiful, insightful, challenging, comforting, honest, and encouraging. I plan to reread this collection.

[Miriam Simut]

I won't be rating this poetry collection. I think some of the poetry was beautiful but some poems were harder to understand. Overall I did enjoy this collection and found some of the poems to be such beautiful prayers and an impactful portrayal of a person calling out to God!

[Avery Amstutz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I want to get this and use it as a daily practice. But it was interesting to go through front to back.

[Eliot DeLorme · Rating 5 out of 5]

Diary of an Old Soul is a book of George Macdonald poems that he wrote for every day of the year. Each poem is seven lines. He writes his poetry as prayer. I found his poems so compelling because they are a rich mix of longing, honesty, desperation, playfulness, imagination, and delight. Macdonald’s images and ideas are lively and unique. And the titles and descriptions he gives to the triune God are delightful.

[Tom · Rating 5 out of 5]

One short poem for everyday of the year by C.S. Lewis mentor, George MacDonald. This is a book to keep where you can read it every morning or evening (your bedside? the bathroom?). It will deepen your vision of this world and the unseen world of divine things.

[Mark Nenadov · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I was about 1/4 through these poems, I was pretty sure I was going to give it a thumbs-down review. However, they sort of crept up on me and grew on me over time and now I can say with only slight reservation that I'm a fan of this one! This is really soul-searching poetry.

[Rick · Rating 3 out of 5]

I suppose I should rate this higher, but I found him terribly difficult to understand. Some poetry type stuff is hard for me to "get." (Not all, for sure.) I'm sure it is quite good, and I know many people really like George MacDonald, but I guess I'm not smart enough to figure him out.

[Ron · Rating 3 out of 5]

Great for daily devotional readings . . . if you don't mind sonnets. Hard to believe that folks once wrote such poetry: once a few, but hundreds of them.

[Johnny · Rating 4 out of 5]

Famous for his fantasy writings such as Phantasy and The Gray Wolf, George MacDonald made a tremendous contribution to the awakening of C. S. Lewis’ faith. Somewhere, probably in one of Lewis’ books, I read of MacDonald’s poetry, but it wasn’t until I recently saw a verse quoted in a modern devotional that I searched for a collection. To my delight, The Gutenberg Project had a free downloadable eBook of A Book of Strife in the Form of a Diary of an Old Soul. Not only has the book both comforted me during the current pandemic with a more classic form of poetry and aspirations of pleasing God, but I know that I will re-read it as intended at some point for it is written as a daily diary and would make a wonderful year’s worth of devotions.

Fans of modern poetry may not savor the, sometimes too, slavishly held rhyme-scheme, but I found it aesthetically pleasing. Let me give you an example in an entry labeled July 26th.

Oh, let me live in thy realities,
Nor substitute my notions for thy facts,
Notion with notion making leagues and pacts;
They are to truth but as dream-deeds to acts,
And questioned, make me doubt of everything.—
"O Lord, my God," my heart gets up and cries,
"Come thy own self, and with thee my faith bring.”

Anyone who has ever had that struggle of wondering if prayers have been heard or worship makes a difference should be able to resonate with the sentiments expressed therein. But though the rhymes are clever and the thoughts insightful, it seems to me that the poet sometimes sacrifices meter such that the scansion seems off. For example, in an entry labeled August 16th, note the extra syllable in the line, “Then only in Thy glory I seem to sit.” It would seem smoother without the “seem.” Yet, I count three awkward lines in this entry, though I well-resonate with the message.

I do not wonder men can ill believe
Who make poor claims upon thee, perfect Lord;
Then most I trust when most I would receive.
I wonder not that such do pray and grieve—
The God they think, to be God is not fit.
Then only in thy glory I seem to sit,
When my heart claims from thine an infinite accord.

As a diary of an old soul, this anthology of “daily poems” seems appropriately named. On both the January 26th and 27th entries, MacDonald muses over the struggle between departing in a blessed death or living a blessed life. To demonstrate I quote both verses in full.

Yestereve, Death came, and knocked at my thin door.
I from my window looked: the thing I saw,
The shape uncouth, I had not seen before.
I was disturbed— with fear, in sooth, not awe;
Whereof ashamed, I instantly did rouse
My will to seek thee— only to fear the more:
Alas! I could not find thee in the house.
I was like Peter when he began to sink.
To thee a new prayer therefore I have got—
That, when Death comes in earnest to my door,
Thou wouldst thyself go, when the latch doth clink,
And lead him to my room, up to my cot;
Then hold thy child's hand, hold and leave him not,
Till Death has done with him for evermore.

Even a couplet at the conclusion of the August 30 entry offers a thought of death coming after conquering the trials of life:

No man is fit for heaven's musician throng
Who has not tuned an instrument all shook and jarred.

Without the full context, it still communicates. In late October, there is a rhyme separated by another line (an a,b,a,b pattern) where the poet laments the time when Death will have him by the “throat” and begs God not to let Death “…on my suffering gloat.” A simple rhyme, but again indicative of MacDonald’s awareness of pending death.

One of my favorites was the poem for November 10th. It reads:

'Tis but as men draw nigh to thee, my Lord,
They can draw nigh each other and not hurt.
Who with the gospel of thy peace are girt,
The belt from which doth hang the Spirit's sword,
Shall breathe on dead bones, and the bones shall live,
Sweet poison to the evil self shall give,
And, clean themselves, lift men clean from the mire abhorred.

For the December 3rd entry, MacDonald’s narrator (and it seems clearly to be himself) complains of weariness, comparing himself to the fruit reaching full ripeness before it drops. So, we see that continuing eyeing of death by the “old soul” of the title. In mid-December, he follows death into the afterlife where he becomes a partner with God in creation. In late December, he emphasizes his intent to be with his daughter who predeceased him. And, finally, his last two lines aspire to becoming one with the perfect love which is God.

I am very glad to have found this volume and I plan to read it again and again (much like I do many of C. S. Lewis’ books). I am tempted to give this five stars, but I worry that many modern readers just won’t be able or willing to navigate through the phrasing of an earlier era.

[Sara H · Rating 5 out of 5]

Poetic words of faith and hope that can be used as a daily devotional or as a quick encouraging read.

[Michael Philliber · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was visiting my over-80 mother yesterday and she was showing me pictures of my childhood. Inside the packet of pictures there was a booklet for Mother's Day I had put together in 1971. Once we opened the cover, inside were two poems I had written as a 10-year-old. Five lines of youthful and heartfelt rhyming. Poetry has been around in my heart since early on, though not a quality I've ever developed. Most of my poetic efforts trend to be at the level of "Roses are red, violets are blue, etc." So, when I opened the newly published and annotated version of George MacDonald's "Diary of an Old Soul" I trembled a bit, knowing I was entering the presence of an accomplished poet. This 296-page handy-sized hardback has been republished in the way MacDonald intended, with the poems on one leaf and a blank page on the next, to jot down reflections. Timothy Larsen, the McManis Professor of Christian Thought at Wheaton College, has done a nice job introducing the history of the book and supplying a minimum of unobtrusive clarifying footnotes.

The poems are broken down into ever day of each of the twelve months. One poem after the other is 7 lines long, and have loose connections with the previous and following installments. I was able to easily sit down and read a whole month within 15 minutes, which probably would have disgusted MacDonald. But it helped give me a sense of how the poems were connected, and when their directions changed.

There were many places where MacDonald tugged at my heart, with feeling and frustration. For example, for April 9, "Here is my heart, O Christ, thou know'st I love thee. But wretched is the thing I call my love. O Love divine, rise up in me and move me - I follow surely when thou first dost move" (94). Or for April 19, "Help me this day to be thy humble sheep. Eating thy grass, and following, thou before; From wolfish lies my life, O Shepherd, keep" (101).

These mini-sonnets weave through fields and tree, wind and snow, life and death. Some push toward adoration of who God is and how he has engaged with MacDonald. Others trudge through the slough of despond. A few cry out for assurance of grace and salvation. The author's heart, nonetheless, is plainly seen throughout, longing for the fullness of God and his fellowship. Thus, there are times of anguish wrapped up in the arms of faith, such as on October 14 (page 229):
"My God, it troubles me I am not better.
More help, I pray, still more. Thy perfect debtor
I shall be when thy perfect child I am grown.
My Father, help me - am I not thine own?
Lo, other lords have had dominion o'er me,
But now thy will alone I set before me:
Thy own heart's life - Lord, thou wilt not abhor me!"
Here are the words of a man longing for more of God, sure of his promises while able to be honest of his own lack.

And there are seasons when one walks with MacDonald through the slough of despond. As one who knows those dark nights of the soul, his words drew me in and pointed me right. It's the lines for December 6 (page 269) where MacDonald scratches out:
"I lay last night and knew not why I was sad.
"'Tis well with God," I said, "and he is the truth;
Let that content me." - 'Tis not strength, nor youth,
Nor bouyant health, nor a heart merry-mad,
That makes the fact of things wherein men live:
He is the life, and doth my life outgive;
In him there is no gloom, but all is solemn-glad."
And "solemn-glad," as the writer of Ecclesiastes notes (7:2) is better than having "a heart merry-mad."

Though I rarely ever read poetry, fearful it will show how puerile my own attempts have been. Yet, I loved every session I spent reading through MacDonald's "Diary of an Old Soul." Yes, I highly recommend the work, and think any follower of Jesus would gain much from it, as well as anyone who simply likes poetry.

My thanks to IVP Academic for sending me the book at my request. They made no demands on me and offered me no bribes. I used the volume they sent for this evaluation, and freely give this review.

[Troy · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been reading this off and on, in short sections, for a very long time. Then as soon as I finish it, I find myself wanting to start at the beginning immediately and read it again. I even may.

Definitely one of the best works of poetry I've ever read, hands down. And perhaps my *favorite* book of poetry I've read to date.

Truly amazing. And even better, if you internally hear it being read in a scruffy old Scottish brogue by its author, with all its emotional and spiritual numbness and deep pain, and passion and resolution, and faith.

I could go on, if I had the time. A sample though would perhaps be the best thing.

Beautiful, wonderful book. I loved it. Highly recommended, for anyone who appreciates spiritual poetry, or even just good poetry.

[David Mosley · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderfully prayerful collection of poetry for each day of the year. MacDonald, who isn't always known for his poetry, writes earnestly to God about his faith each day. Read these prayers and reflect.

[Mariah Dawn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Some favorites:

My prayers, my God, flow from what I am not;
I think thy answers make me what I am.
Like weary waves thought follows upon thought,
But the still depth beneath is all thine own,
And there thou mov’st in paths to us unknown.
Out of strange stride thy peace is strangely wrought;
If the lion in us pray—thou answerest the lamb.

I am a fool when I would stop and think,
And lest I lose my thoughts, from duty shrink.
It is but avarice in another shape.
‘Tis as the vine-branch were to hoard the grape,
Nor trust the living root beneath the sod.
What trouble is that child to thee, my God,
Who sips they gracious cup, and will not drink!

This weariness of mine, may it not come
From something that doth need no setting right?
Shall fruit be blamed if it hang wearily
A day before it perfected drop plumb
To the sad earth from off its nursing tree?
Ripeness must always come with loss of might,
The weary evening fall before the resting night.

[Kaycee Owens · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a wonderful companion to the year. There is a short verse for each day, but mostly read them as triplets (or as a sonnet) since there was so much continuity within. Very beautiful and insightful. I’ve memorized a few of my favorites lines. I love George MacDonald!!

[Aubrey Eshelman · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful experience, reading a poem every day for a year. My respect for MacDonald only grows.

[Summer Culver · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a treasure chest of poetry that draws you nearer to the heart of Christ!

[Renee Wolcott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hmm. At first I was going to give this a single star, remembering how much I dragged my feet when seeing it was poetry. In fact, however, this long poem is a lovely meditation on finding rest in God's will while alive, and joy in his yet deeper embrace after death. Sit down with it in the proper mood, and it will move you deeply. Here are three verses that I love, coming as they do on the heels of the death of my dear dog, which prompted many meditations on mortality:

Yestereve, Death came, and knocked at my thin door.
I from my window looked: the thing I saw,
the shape uncouth, I had not seen before.
I was disturbed--with fear, in sooth, not awe;
whereof ashamed, I instantly did rouse
my will to seek thee--only to fear the more:
Alas! I could not find thee in the house.

I was like Peter when he began to sink.
To thee a new prayer therefore I have got--
that, when Death comes in earnest to my door,
thou wouldst thyself go, when the latch doth clink,
and lead him to my room, up to my cot;
then hold thy child's hand, hold and leave him not,
till Death has done with him for evermore.

Till Death has done with him?--Ah, leave me then!
And Death has done with me, oh, nevermore!
He comes--and goes--to leave me in thy arms,
nearer thy heart, oh, nearer than before!
To lay thy child, naked, new-born again
of mother earth, crept free through many harms,
upon thy bosom--still to the very core.

[Gretchen · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fun change-up to a devotional routine! Short, daily poems deal with the poet's longing for God Himself; his desire to settle for nothing less, though he frequently finds himself doing so; and his looking forward to the reality beyond this physical one. An encouraging look at spiritual progress as an ongoing journey, gaining maturity while still longing for greater growth--even at the end of a lifetime. Truly highlighting that life lived with God is the most vibrant, permanent adventure that exists, because it carries on with us.

I don't consider myself to be an excellent judge of poetry in a technical sense. I totally understand all the pieces of poetry, but when I judge whether or not I like a poem, it certainly has more to do with content than technical ability. So in giving this George MacDonald poetry a 5-star, it is related to the poetic content. Experts on Victorian poetry may have things to say about the structure, but that is not my main concern.

Many poems provided me with a sense of encouragement--I'm not the only one to feel that way. Others were an inspiration-- I want to feel that way/want those things. All directed the reader back toward the face and arms of God as the center of everything, especially spirituality. Many highlighted verses, including some that I hope can be true of me at the end of my life here.

Some verses stood alone, and sometimes groups of them built upon one another.

[Bryana Beaird · Rating 4 out of 5]

This volume is a collection of short devotional poems by MacDonald, one for each day of the year. Some are fairly hum-drum, but I copied down several pages of real treasures. A small sampling:

“Be for me then against myself. Oh lean
Over me then when I invert my cup;
Take me, if by the hair, and lift me up.”

“Give me a world, to part for praise and sunder.
The brooks be bells; the winds, in caverns dumb,
Wake fife and flute and flageolet and voice;
The fire-shook earth itself be the great drum;
And let the air the region’s bass out thunder;
The firs be violins; the reeds hautboys;
Rivers, seas, icebergs fill the great score up and under!
But rather dost thou hear the blundered words
Of breathing creatures; the music-lowing herds
Of thy great cattle; thy soft-bleating sheep;
O’erhovered by the trebles of thy birds,
Whose Christ-praised carelessness song-fills the deep;
Still rather a child’s talk who apart doth hide him,
And make a tent for God to come and sit beside him.”

“O Father, thou art my eternity.
Not on the clasp Of consciousness–on thee
My life depends; and I can well afford
All to forget, so thou remember, Lord.”

[Juliana]

It's poetry, which I can't pretend to fully comprehend... and Devotional, which I am ready to re-enter. It's not highly digestible, but there is one paragraph entry for each day of the year, so I get to take a year to read it.

[Rex Libris · Rating 4 out of 5]

This work has small poetic meditation for each day of the year.

In keeping with the theme suggested by the title, many of the meditations have to do with aging and awaiting the coming afterlife in Heaven.

[Naomi · Rating 4 out of 5]

devotional with poems for each day.