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  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.

       - Christina G. Rossetti


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