The hands of povertyFrom the hands of poverty I was born, knowing not mother or father, having no sister or brother and the truth to my name was lost somewhere in the past.
I felt the daily pains of hunger as my stomach burned with the need for want, no one to give, for like myself they only want to receive.
My pride I had to put aside, for from the garbage I eat to stay alive.
My begging arms and pitiful face
seemed to fail as the years passed by.
I felt like stealing but something held me back, I remember the Lord, His pains and suffering, how He committed not a crime but call above to His father for strength, so likewise I called to Him
Now, from the hands of poverty I have passed but from the hands of God I will never depart, for in Him my sorrows turned to joy and my needs he gladly fulfil.
Oliver Lawrence
