In the ancient city there
stood a temple where an unnamed woman
gave the precious little that she had.
And she was blessed.

The one since called Magdalene
also penitently gave her tears. And unabashed
she dropped the curtained past
from her eyes, like scales,
at the Master's feet.

Or standing at a well, outcast with her
unclean life, was one who gave water
and came away, alive for the first time,
joyfully to tell.

Ah, yielding!

Hollow fear and pride, darkened carnal mind,
enmity of centuries, fear of wanting
for the next day's bread
when tables even now are spread
before us in the wilderness.

O Lord,
Thy sacrifices of the heart
take us to our dwelling in Thy gates.

Is there a sacrifice that we could think
too dear and great to offer at Thy feet?

Zera Holland Blumenstein

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Being a Witness for Good
November 21, 1977

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