Thou Lovest Still The Poor; Oh, Blest Poem by Dora Greenwell

Thou Lovest Still The Poor; Oh, Blest



Thou lovest still the poor; oh, blest
In poverty beloved to be!
Less lowly is our choice confessed,
We love the rich, in loving Thee.

Our spirits bare before Thee stand,
We bring no gift, we ask no sign,
We come to The with empty hand,
The surer to be filled from thine.

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