In The Master’s Hand

I don’t think the Master could use my small lunch;

While one hungry boy it will feed,

If He would provide for this vast multitude

Ah, many more loaves He will need.

Still, I’d like to do something to show Him my love

And I know nothing else I could bring;

Even though it may not be enough for the crowd

‘Twill at least be a lunch for the king.

I will tell His disciples, for I’m but a lad

And have heard of His fame through the land.

But see, now He beckons, as though He could tell

I was longing to touch His dear hand.

What is this He does? He is praying, and now

He break up the loaves and the fish,

And gives the disciples big baskets to pass,

I didn’t have much I could offer the Lord,

But I’m glad that I brought what I had,

For He doesn’t look at the size of the gift,

Nor yet at the size of the lad;

But He looks at the size of the love in your heart

And the gift - He will never refuse it,

And only eternity’s pages will tell

The way He was able to use it.

By Barbara C. Ryberg