GOD’S TREASURY (A SONNET)
He notices and knows: the widow’s mite
Surpasses all the gifts offered that day;
Of value more two coins were in His sight
Than largest sums the rich could easily pay.
Out of her poverty she gave her all,
Yea everything she had, her whole living;
Of their abundance, sacrifice was small
For wealth leaned not on God after giving.
So art thou poor in strength of any kind?
He gets it; and He sees how much it takes
To use the last bit of thy pow’rs of mind,
Emotion, will, heart, spirit, body aches.
Compare thyself not with another’s might—
Thy mite of widowed weakness His delight.
by Kristen Sykes