THE POOR
Reading edition
By Speer Strahan, C.S.C.
The poor I saw at the cloister gate Mutely beg with their patient eyes An alms, for the love of Him who sate And supped with the poor in human guise. And there were monks saw the nails’ deep scars In the shrunken hands that reached for bread, Who heard a Voice from beyond the stars In the broken thanks of them they fed. I, too, at the gates of God each day Seek for an alms of strength and grace, Beggar am I that wait and pray To feast my soul on His beauteous Face.