small

Shall heaven, then, be small? How shall we get inside if there's no mighty gate and tall, but just a needle's eye? A keyhole for a door, no wider than a nail: How shall you draw us through it, Lord, if mercy should not fail? O you who came unseen, encelled in Mary's womb, who shrank all heaven to a gleam and locked it in a tomb, will surely open worlds within the needle's eye where even fools have lamps that burn like torches in the night and where the wayward flock finds pasture by your stream, a river pouring form the rock, an ocean in its seam. If I am not so small, yet, Shepherd, give me rest where many mansions rise up tall, where once a spear had pierced.

I don't have flocks to offer you,
just these two turtledoves;
if they could be enough for you,
you have them with my love.

I lay no treasures at your feet,
no more than two small coins.
All that you first have given me,
I give to you again.

Little enough, the gift I bring;
I pray, let it suffice.
Though but a meagre offering,
it is my sacrifice.

If I had cities in my hold
or talents in my grasp,
or harvests ripening to gold,
you would have but to ask,

but if I have no more to give,
do not be angry, Lord.
Still let it stand for all I'd have 
if you had given more.

And let me be content with this,
with giving you my mite.
If you have made me only this,
it's good, then, in your sight.

Tag: small

I Don’t Have Flocks