Poem January 9, 1989 Issue

He fed the multitude

Wilma A. Cantrell

'Twas in a desert place
Where fear and doubt alone would limit grace
That Jesus fed the multitude.

He knew no here nor there,
No fear, no lack nor care—
But Love's all-presence meeting every need.
His part was but to bless and break
That scant supply of fish and bread
And thus the multitude was fed.

If in some desert place
Of barren thought we seem to be
And though the need seem great
Our part is but to bless and break
Whate'er supply we have of faith,
Of love, of gratitude,
Then we shall find our needs are met,
Our fears subdued,
We shall be fed as Jesus fed the multitude.

Wilma A. Cantrell

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