There is Holiness in
Giving,
Imparting,
Sharing
From our loaf the leavening of God’s mercies to the hopeless
Around us—
A quiet rendering,
Accounting and
Bookkeeping
God writes down as our
Gift to His Son when we sweep, feed and the wounded
Bandage up—
My inventory is small,
Meager,
Measurable
To say the least if ‘others’ judge–
But He alone can multiply my poverty’s mite
And purchase with Love.


