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I heard my name called softly,
And I ran to my front door,
I also looked in every room,
This mystery to explore.
The next time I was taken to task,
For a message did ensue,
With baited breath I did ask,
"Is it you, Lord, is it you?"
I had to question with reservation,
For on the truth I must rely,
So I inquired without hesitation,
"Is it I, Lord, is it I?"
"What is it, what can I do,
What do you want with me?"
"If you listen, I will tell you,"
He said so quietly.
So I caught my breath, He was so kind,
His instrument I wished to be,
"Use me, Lord," came to mind,
Your will let me foresee.
"Tell all who will listen who I am,
Why I hung upon the tree,
I am the Good News their hearts yearn for,
Their salvation is through me."
© 1999 Phyllis Seeley Burroughs
These poems by Phyllis Seeley Burroughs are her creative property and are protected by federal copyright laws. The poems should not be copied, reprinted, or otherwise used by anyone without the written permission of the author.