In The Service Of The Destitute Poem by P K Joy

Lord my God I kiss your feet
with overwhelming gratitude
For your merciful act of choosing
me to serve the destitute.
Lord, if you hadn’t put me at the
service of the destitute,
What other nobler use of me
for you the grantor of beatitude!

If you hadn’t put me at the service of the destitute,
I wouldn’t have ever known my Lord
these lots’ sufferings’ magnitude.
Some riches you gave me
and bestowed on me the attitude
To share the bounty beyond my needs
with these poor multitude.

The sick, the crippled, the unwanted
with none to give a look of care,
The hungry, unclad, unlettered,
the weak living with many a fear,
The unsheltered, the isolated with
none with whom their woes to share,
The hopeless, hapless, and longing to die.
Under my care all these are there.



The smile on their faces when they get
their oozing sores washed and dressed,
Their mute expression of gratitude
when they get their daily bread
The sense of relief they express by a
mumble and a nod of the head.
These do give me immense joy
for which I thank you, loving God.

For your gift of eyes to see their plight,
the ears to hear their cries,
The heart to feel their pains as mine,
the mind and skill to plan their care,
The hands to wash and dress their sores,
and the willingness to give them share
In all that you’ve given me in trust,
I thank you God. Give more to share.