A measure of love, she held in her hand,
Graced by His presence, her heart took command
He provided the bread when her cupboard was bare,
He had walked in the shadows and answered her prayer;
When she had been lonely, He stayed by her side,
Not one of her needs, He had ever denied -
Two mites' - He had whispered - 'Lovest thou Me?'
'My love for you is greater than these.'
A measure of love, she clutched in her hand,
She knew it was costly, He made no demand,
He gave her a life, when before she had none;
And added the courage, to face everyone.
She anointed His body with perfume so rare,
Wiped away tears, in the folds of her hair,
'Perfume' - He had whispered - 'Lovest thou Me'
I spared not a drop - you mean more to me.
A measure of love, with potsherd in hand,
He was stricken with boils at Satan's demand;
No hedge for a covert, a life without sin
Thru sackcloth and ashes, his eyes did not dim.
Taunted by friends, he made no reply,
E'en tho his companion said, 'curse God, and die' -
'Your life' - He had whispered - 'lovest thou Me?'
Take all my possessions, I love only Thee.
-Elizabeth Wallace Morehead-
Copyright owned by the
Wallace and Morehead
families.
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~ ~April 16, 2003~ ~