[center] [font=courier new][size=5]A Bruised Reed Shall He Not Break[/size] [size=4] by Christina Rossetti[/size] [size=3] 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. [/size][/center]