Poor man am I, Lord, in all things good,
Barefoot and covered by dirt and daily grime.
I've walked by houses where riches abound,
Felt phantom silk cushions under my head at night,
Gaped at wild strawberries, nuts, and lamb roast,
Tinkling glasses, lovely bowls and spoons,
Fine cabernet, fresh bread lightly toasted,
In large, ornate, well-adorned, softly-lit rooms.
I've dug through trash to find my next meal,
Spent freezing evenings in autumn air,
Worn tired-out wool shirts, rough to the feel,
And wandered about, too tired and lost to care...
I saw, dimly, a well-lit house in the night.
You brought me in, killed the calf, bathed, clothed, and fed me with light.
No comments:
Post a Comment