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.

1. What the Lord Saith
2. Song of the Waiting Dead
3. Christmas Meditation
4. Going to Sleep
5. Born of Water

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