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Poem by George MacDonald
The Women who Ministered unto Him
Enough he labours for his hire; Yea, nought can pay his pain; But powers that wear and waste and tire, Need help to toil again. They give him freely all they can, They give him clothes and food; In this rejoicing, that the man Is not ashamed they should. High love takes form in lowly thing; He knows the offering such; To them 'tis little that they bring, To him 'tis very much.
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