Redeemed Poem by Agnes Clark

Someplace along the time-worn way
the gifts I bought were lost;
stolen perhaps, or used to pay
a beer or lodging cost,

and all I had leftt was a bag
of burlap, stained and frayed (to match
myself, a thing of bruise and rag) ,
crammed with discarded trash.

There were old sorrows, errors, pain,
a sin or two, and fickle glee.
Rather than mar the clean terrain
I carried them with me.

When, coming from the dark, I saw
the picture, Raphael animate,
I crept guilt-stricken fain the awe,
close to the child of fate.

I willed myself to shrink to size
of mustard seed, but gently He
grasped in his hand my bag. His eyes
smiled lovingly at me.