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He Gave Me No Meat My brother, I am hungry,—give me food Such as my Father gives me at his board; He has for many years been to thee good, Thou canst a morsel then to me afford; I do not ask of thee a grain of that Thou offerest when I call on thee for bread; This is not of the wine nor olive fat, But those who eat of this like thee are dead; I ask the love the Father has for thee, That thou should'st give it back to me again; This shall my soul from pangs of hunger free, And on my parched spirit fall like rain; Then thou wilt prove a brother to my need, For in the cross of Christ thou too canst bleed. Jones Very's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1256 |
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