The Lot Of Christ Poem by Ina Coolbrith
The Lot Of Christ
His was the lowliest lot of all
That fell to mortal birth:
A Babe within a manager laid,
Nor gold nor treasure worth;
With feet to tread the path of pain,
But not the ways of mirth;
A cross to bear, the thorns to wear-
The King of all the earth!
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
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4/29/2024 7:03:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
