My feast awaits the coming of the Lord,
To my Christ, I have made a banquet.
Wonderful drinks have been prepared,
The food has been cooked well done.
Then a slow tap I hear at the door,
A soft knocking my ears did catch.
Before me stood a mother with child,
A starved babe and hollowed women cried to me,
“We have not eaten for many days,”
“Every door has shown no compassion.”
“Please let us have a morsel of the Lord’s table,”
“Just a trifle of the King’s plate is all we ask.”
Their sorrow filled me with compassion,
With love, I invited them to feast.
I filled their plates with choicest foods,
Their cups I refilled until they were full.
Generously, I placed food into bags for them,
Eagerly, I gave them milk and water for the road.
She thanked me for the love I shown her,
With tears of joy, she praised the Almighty.
As she leaves, I wait for my guest,
With eagerness, I watch for the Lord Jesus.
Will the Lord come to the banquet prepared for Him. This narrative poem will continue next Wednesday. May the Lord bless you.