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