Gifts

ABRAHAM

Oh Man!

Your every hope and joy

Rest in that boy!

How slay?

How give his life away?

Surely twill break

Your heart. Oh take

Him back again.

And yet he gave his only son to die

Drawing from that deep well of love

That gives nor questions why.

.

THE WIDOW

Woman,

You only have a mite –

Oh, hold it tight!

Why give?

How will you live?

So small to some,

So vast a sum

To you – your all.

She gave it – tiny, mean and small,

And with it the sweet store of love

Of one who gives her all.

.

THE CHRISTIAN

Dear Lord,

You have my treasure store.

Son – give me more.

No pain,

No sweat, no stain

Of blood hallows

Your gifts; shallows

The love you bring

Cheap gifts are thorns and nails, a dart

Thrust in my side. I gave my all.

My son, give me your heart!

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