A Poem by Amy Carmichael

If I love to be loved more than to love, to be served more than to serve,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient unloving word,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If souls can suffer alongside, and I hardly know it, because the spirit of
discernment is not in me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I belittle those whom I am called to serve, talk of their weak points in
contrast perhaps with what I think of as my strong points;

If I adopt a superior attitude, forgetting, “Who made thee to differ? And what hast thou that thou has not received?” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can easily discuss the shortcomings of any;if I can speak in a casual way of a child’s misdoings, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I rebuke without a pang, then I know nothing of Calvary love. 

If I cast up a confessed, repented and forsaken sin against another, and allow my remembrance of that sin to colour my thinking and feed my suspicions, then I know nothing of Calvary love. 

If I can hurt another by speaking faithfully without much preparation of spirit, and without hurting myself far more than I hurt the other, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I forget that it was He who granted the ray of light to His most unworthy servant, then I know nothing of Calvary love. If I covet any place on earth but the dust at the foot of the Cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

That which I know not, teach Thou me, O Lord, my God.