MATTHEW. 8:20
THE weary foxes seek their homes,
Holed out in bank and bush,
And with their cubs soon fall asleep,
Curled up in cozy brush.
The birds—each near its little nest—
To one another sing,
And then, tired out, they go to bed,
With head tucked under wing.
But think, dear boys and girls, of this—
That He who you has blest,
And He who all things made could find
No place in which to rest:
He who Himself, the Son of man,
Though very God as well,
Had nowhere He could lay His head
No home where He could dwell.
Now ponder this, and question why,
WHY this could ever be,
And ask yourself, What does it mean,
What does it mean to ME?
W. L.