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The Widow's Mite
The widow neared in silence and then cast
Her gift into the temple treasury,
Two little coins, all that she had,- her last,
In her great indigence and poverty.
Her offering, a sacrifice so great,-
Most others gave of superfluity,
The copper coins was all the widow had,
And now she fed with them the treasury.
Where would her next meal come from?- she knew not,
But trusted in the promises of God
Who in His promise solemn guaranteed
To meet with orphans' and poor widows' need.
They made no noise, her coins were far too light,
Most donor's money clattered while it rolled,
Down to the money pool in clanking fall,
Substantial heavy mint. or coins of gold.
But keen and sharp is the Almighty's sight
Who sees the tither's heart and attitude.
And took delight in the poor widow's mite
That did proclaim Him as the highest Good.
The widow's gift all others far surpassed,
A symbol of her body and her soul,
The very gift of Self, her all, - her last,
She offered to her God as her obole.
Surrender perfect, total absolute,
With boundless loving generosity,
Surrender utter to her highest good
With childlike trust and spontaneity.
Her tiny coins, that were her sole support
Naught now remained for her, but trust and faith,
In the Provider Ultimate, - the Lord,
His providence divine and loving grace.
Deprived of livelyhood the widow tithed,
And the OMNISCIENT thrilling - was amazed.
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a very beautiful piece !!!!!!!!!!