Supply

Long years ago in the still morning light
A boat lay rocking on the waters bright,
And fishermen in deep and silent thought
Into the ship their broken nets had brought.
All night these men had toiled in waters deep—
Through the long hours they toiled, they did
not sleep—
And yet it seemed of harvest they had none,
The nets were broken and their work undone.
Then suddenly upon the shore there stood
The one who often spake of brotherhood.

The nets were mended now; yet at the call
They straightway left their ship, their nets, and all
To follow after him who moved along,
The central figure of a mighty throng.

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