He may call me Helen Mary
Or even chi naleen,*
For I’m different from most children
You have always seen.
My hair is straight and shining
Of very darkest hue.
My eyes are like two deep dark pools,
And my skin is soft brown too.
At school they call me Indian,
At church I’m Lamanite,
Great-grandpa says we’re chosen,
And I think they all are right.
By whatever name He seeks me,
It will matter not at all,
For I’m my Heavenly Father’s child
And I’ll answer to His call.