p. 226 | The Home Circle

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · May 18, 1882

The Home Circle.

THE WIDOW'S MITES.

WHEN the splendid Jewish temple Stood erect in days of old, Gleaming with its walls of marble, Starry gems and glittering gold, Spicy woods and fragrant incense Wafted fragrance everywhere, While in every court the people Thronged for sacrifice and prayer.

Rich and noble, grand and lordly, Offered tithes of all their store, While the hem of priestly garments Swept the tessellated floor; Stately Pharisees trod proudly, And their costly gifts displayed, Cast their gold into the treas'ry Where the offerings were made.

Overlooking all, was sitting One of gentle, lowly mein; Pharisee and priest ignored him— He was but "the Nazarene!" Who could think that humble stranger "Searched and tried the hearts" of men, Saw what prompted every offering, With his wondrous, God-like ken?

When a shy and shrinking woman, In her garb of widowhood, One who knew both want and sorrow,— Want, perchance, of daily food— Brought her poor but grateful offering, Grieving that it was so small, Jesus said to those about him, "She hath given more than all."

Ah! he knew of want and hunger, Grief and care, and sorrow too; And the widow's paltry farthing Cost a sacrifice, he knew. So all fruits of self-denial Are the gifts he loves the best; Not the richest or most costly Are the offerings most blest! —Selected.