'A Bruised Reed Shall He Not Break'

by Christina Rossetti
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.