Poem February 20, 1937 Issue

"Feed my sheep"

(In gratitude for the Christian Science Quarterly)

WILLIAM H. D. MORGAN

As in Bethsaida, all who came
Our Master fed,
So we today find Christ the same—
The living bread.

As he, Syria, years away,
True food descried,
We too may find that bread today
By Love supplied.

Humbly I seek eternal Mind—
To rise above
The mists of erring sense to find
Love, living Love.

May all of sense and self remove
Before Love's power,
And I Thine omnipresence prove,
This quiet hour.

And as Thy loved command comes still
Thy sheep to feed,
Gladly I take this bread to fill
Thy people's need.

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