THE POOR
By Speer Strahan, C.S.C.
The poor I saw at the cloister gateMutely beg with their patient eyesAn alms, for the love of Him who sateAnd supped with the poor in human guise.And there were monks saw the nails’ deep scarsIn the shrunken hands that reached for bread,Who heard a Voice from beyond the starsIn the broken thanks of them they fed.I, too, at the gates of God each daySeek for an alms of strength and grace,Beggar am I that wait and prayTo feast my soul on His beauteous Face.
The poor I saw at the cloister gateMutely beg with their patient eyesAn alms, for the love of Him who sateAnd supped with the poor in human guise.And there were monks saw the nails’ deep scarsIn the shrunken hands that reached for bread,Who heard a Voice from beyond the starsIn the broken thanks of them they fed.I, too, at the gates of God each daySeek for an alms of strength and grace,Beggar am I that wait and prayTo feast my soul on His beauteous Face.
The poor I saw at the cloister gateMutely beg with their patient eyesAn alms, for the love of Him who sateAnd supped with the poor in human guise.
The poor I saw at the cloister gate
Mutely beg with their patient eyes
An alms, for the love of Him who sate
And supped with the poor in human guise.
And there were monks saw the nails’ deep scarsIn the shrunken hands that reached for bread,Who heard a Voice from beyond the starsIn the broken thanks of them they fed.
And there were monks saw the nails’ deep scars
In the shrunken hands that reached for bread,
Who heard a Voice from beyond the stars
In the broken thanks of them they fed.
I, too, at the gates of God each daySeek for an alms of strength and grace,Beggar am I that wait and prayTo feast my soul on His beauteous Face.
I, too, at the gates of God each day
Seek for an alms of strength and grace,
Beggar am I that wait and pray
To feast my soul on His beauteous Face.