When He Calls Me

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.