The Least of These
Teach me to feed the hungry first,
To bring a cup for those who thirst,
To gather migrant strangers in,
To clothe exposed and naked skin,
To visit homes where sickness falls,
To go to those in prison walls.
In all these things I seek to do,
Lord, let me always act from You.
I long to feed on what is good,
To taste truth not yet understood;
I wander, needing to be taught,
My mind stripped bare of higher thought;
I sicken — sin constricts my heart;
I’m snared by the deceiver’s art.
So may I in humility
Accept the aid that’s offered me.
And You, Lord — do You hunger too,
And thirst to bless with good and true?
No room was made when You were born;
At death, Your clothes were snatched and torn.
You felt the sickness of mankind,
Endured, then broke, the chains that bind,
Became the least to offer grace —
In lowliness we see Your face.
Coleman Glenn 