“My poor clay-sparrow seems turned to a stone,And from my heart will neither fly nor run.
I cannot feel as thou and I both would,
But, Father, I am willing—make me good.
What art thou father for, but to help thy son?
Look deep, yet deeper, in my heart, and there,
Beyond where I can feel, read thou the prayer.”
Excerpt From: MacDonald, George. “A Book of Strife in the Form of The Diary of an Old Soul.” iBooks.