Enough he labours for his hire;
Yea, nought can pay his pain;
But powers that wear and waste and tire,
Need help to toil again.
They give him freely all they can,
They give him clothes and food;
In this rejoicing, that the man
Is not ashamed they should.
High love takes form in lowly thing;
He knows the offering such;
To them 'tis little that they bring,
To him 'tis very much.
The Gospel Women 09: The Women Who Ministered Unto Him
George Macdonald
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Poem topics: food, pain, bring, high, waste, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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