Hope

I have wanted to remember this poem for a long time.
It is quoted in A Ring of Endless Light by Madeline L'Engle.

I don't think I can adequately explain the significance of this poem to me. It is a challenging, difficult, but very substantial hope. To be a shell, then to be filled.

Indwelling
By T.E. Brown


IF thou couldst empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the Ocean shelf,
And say—" This is not dead,"—
And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou,
And hast such shrewd activity,
That, when He comes, He says :—" This is enow
Unto itself—’Twere better let it be:
It is so small and full, there is no room for Me."

I think I still believe in emptying.
I hope this does not result in death.
I hope that I am not forgotten.
I hope that when I have given all that I have, I will not be left empty.