Poem March 28, 1942 Issue

"What hast thou in the house?"

ETHEL WASGATT DENNIS

In Zarephath a widow, long ago,
Despite the seeming press of want and woe,
Shared with Elijah her own meager store
And saw it multiplied exceeding more.

Another widow sought Elisha's aid,
And now, no more despairing and afraid,
Her precious oil in borrowed vessels poured
And found God's providence her rich reward.

The rule of progress differs not today,
If thou wouldst prove Love's more abundant way.
Some precious thing thou hast which thou must share,
So to withhold it do not longer dare.

"What hast thou in the house?" A little cake,
A pot of oil? Oh, then for Love's dear sake
Share with another, and God's law will bless
And multiply it into loveliness.

Perhaps one understanding smile may show
Faith in a brother whose ascent seems slow,
One secret kindness where earth's burdens press,
One handclasp, eloquent with tenderness.

Each one must reap the harvest he has sown,
Since what we share is all we make our own;
Be this thy simple trust, thy joyous creed:
God's grace is still sufficient for man's need.

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