"Listen, my beloved brethren. Has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which he has promised to those who love him?" (2)
BeggarsThe beggar's propped against the curb:
His hands held out -- cupped like a font;
His sallow eyes stare and disturb --
Set in a face stone cold and gaunt.
The bag lady clings to her things:
Her leather face, wizened by sun;
Her piercing eyes -- suspicion's stings --
Tell of her tale: misfortune's won.
A coin tossed in the beggar's font,
A drop in a desert of need,
Can help to feed him in his want --
An alms can free him from our greed.
A smile for the homeless ill,
May comfort her along her way;
A prayer offered may help to fill,
Her void of painful disarray.
The Lord is found among the lost.
The least souls have a higher place
Than us who measure alms by cost --
For we are beggars of His grace!