The Call

The Call a poem

The Call

by Patrica Austin

“I’ve been waiting,” he said. “What took you so long?”
I slowly stepped forward and stared at the ground.
“I sent for you child, I’ve been calling for years.”
I picked up my head, my face stained with tears.
“Did you not get my message? Didn’t it reach you at all?
What took you so long to answer my call?”

“I’m sorry,” said I to the Most Holy King
“I was ashamed to come forward. I have no gift to bring.
My hands, they are empty. I have no gift for thee.
No riches, no treasure for your Majesty.
My hands can’t make music. My voice cannot sing.
I’m a disgrace to you Sir. I have nothing to bring.”

“So this is what kept you from answering my call?
I required no riches, no treasure at all.
But only your presence, humble and willing;
Empty hands, empty heart for these I’ll be filling.
My grace is sufficient; my love is complete
And I, Christ the King, lay these gifts at your feet.”

I had come empty handed. I hand nothing to bring.
I stood trembling and terrified at the throne of my King.
And He offered me gifts and treasure so rare;
Not gold, jewels or silver, but hope in despair.
And forgiveness from sin, and a world that’s complete
If I would simply come forward and lay my life at His feet.


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