A Widow’s Mite
A widow’s mite has built your home,
Where your grateful children come.
Loaves and fishes grow and grow,
You just won’t let your loved ones go.
It seems a journey far too long,
Perhaps our plans are false and wrong.
But your plans surely overrule,
And teach us in a better school.
We learn from you and not our ways,
Our paths fail, Your Word stays.
O faithful God,
So sure and true.
All we treasure comes from you.
