Читать книгу Psalms of Gratitude and Prayer - John J. Brugaletta - Страница 10

Small as I was, possessing like a king,

I knew my property came from my dad,

and not just some of mine, but everything.

What could I give him that he had not had?

The possibilities became a list

with statues first, then windows, then

his picture that I daily blessed and kissed.

But these were feeble objects made by men.

With Christmas drawing near, my next thought flew

to duties, proper acts of charity,

to hordes converted (to my rivals’ few).

Yet which of these could I say came from me?

At last I found the box my gift would fill

and put inside the best I had, my will.