Explore "A Book of Strife in the Form of the Diary of an Old Soul" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
1. I TO myself have neither power nor worth, / Patience nor love, nor anything right good; / My soul is a poor land, plenteous in dearth -- / Here blades of grass, there a small herb for food -- / A nothing that would be something if it could; / But if obedience, Lord, in me do grow, / I shall one day be better than I know.
2. The worst power of an evil mood is this -- / It makes the bastard self seem in the right, / Self, self the end, the goal of human bliss. / But if the Christ-self in us be the might / Of saving God, why should I spend my force / With a dark thing to reason of the light -- / Not push it rough aside, and hold obedient course?