As to her child a mother calls, <br />'Come to me, child; come near!' <br />Calling, in silent intervals, <br />The Master's voice I hear. <br /> <br />But does he call me verily? <br />To have me does he care? <br />Why should he seek my poverty, <br />My selfishness so bare? <br /> <br />The dear voice makes his gladness brim, <br />But not a child can know <br />Why that large woman cares for him, <br />Why she should love him so! <br /> <br />Lord, to thy call of me I bow, <br />Obey like Abraham: <br />Thou lov'st me because thou art thou, <br />And I am what I am! <br /> <br />Doubt whispers, <br />Thou art such a blot <br />He cannot love poor thee <br />: <br />If what I am he loveth not, <br />He loves what I shall be. <br /> <br />Nay, that which can be drawn and wooed, <br />And turned away from ill, <br />Is what his father made for good: <br />He loves me, I say still!<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-night-21/
