When he has more than he can eat
To feed a stranger's not a feat.
When he has more than he can spend
It isn't hard to give or lend.
Who gives but what he'll never miss
Will never know what giving is.
He'll win few praises from his Lord
Who does but what he can afford.
The widow's mite to heaven went
Because real sacrifice it meant.
Sacrifice
Edgar Albert Guest
(1)
Poem topics: heaven, I miss you, real, feed, hard, stranger, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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