TITLE: Feast Of The Pauper
By Lisa Messier
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
SEND ARTICLE TO A FRIEND
Mold and dirt, the feast of a pauper
My lot in life, my pain in sleep
For what I must do, my life to keep
I beg and steal, as bold as can be
Then flee and hide, before I'm seen
But I'm found once more by hunger's fangs
So I'll steal again, as my conscience hangs
I'm old and weak, and hate myself
I've betrayed my God for life itself
In right and wrong, I've known my way
And soon in death, I'll have to pay
I fear for my soul, as never before
When I'm suddenly faced with heaven's door
I fall to my knees and cover my face
When confronted by the God of grace
I remember once I'd heard of Him
By the man who told me of my sin
Through his lead, I gave my heart
Then I had new life to start
I'd forgotten how I'd felt that day
Washed and clean, of a new way
But I gave it up to steal once more
When hunger struck with the force of war
So now in death, I cower and fear
Yet here God speaks, loud and clear
"Come my child, and eat your need.
For you are why I chose to bleed."
Then through the seven gates I'm led
I'm washed and scrubbed from toe to head.
I'm clothed in robes of purest white
That glow as if with God's own light.
I'm led to a fest like I've never seen
And I forget the hunger that has been
My constant companion, all my life
Through fear and hope, through joy and strife
I sit in this chair because of His grace
For alone I'd never earn this place
My name I hear in His voice so sweet,
"Welcome, my childe, come now, let's feast!"
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.