he awaketh from his bed
as from a night long grave
knowing not whence cometh bread
as with a helpless brave
yet alive his childhood wish
that God would open the door
with five bread and two fish
but who feeds the poor?

though men watch with pity
they say they're not guilty
they share his tears not his plight
they bear his fears not his sight
in deed they hope for a halt
for his hurt though not their fault
who can stand his repelling sore?
who helps the poor?

they share his shame not the blame
lest they be themselves the same
who on earth can give their last
and watch yon poverty come fast?
shall we ourselves not be blest
if we share with him our very best?
why wait on God to push the door
when we ourselves can save the poor?

(standing ovation)

u r welcome