“A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK.”

I will accept thy will to do and be,

Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,

Thy will at least to love, that burns within

And thirsteth after Me:

So will I render fruitful, blessing still

The germs and small beginnings in thy heart,

Because thy will cleaves to the better part.—

Alas, I cannot will.

Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive

The inner unseen longings of the soul;

I guide them turning towards Me; I control

And charm hearts till they grieve:

If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass,

Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love;

For I have power in earth and heaven above.—

I cannot wish, alas!

What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet

I still must strive to win thee and constrain:

For thee I hung upon the cross in pain,

How then can I forget?

If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate,

Nor choose, nor wish,— resign thyself, be still

Till I infuse love, hatred, longing, will.—

I do not deprecate.