Explore "The Widow with the Two Mites" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Here _much_ and _little_ shift and change, / With scale of need and time; / There _more_ and _less_ have meanings strange, / Which the world cannot rime.
Sickness may be more hale than health, / And service kingdom high; / Yea, poverty be bounty's wealth, / To give like God thereby.
Bring forth your riches; let them go, / Nor mourn the lost control; / For if ye hoard them, surely so / Their rust will reach your soul.
Cast in your coins, for God delights / When from wide hands they fall; / But here is one who brings two mites, / And thus gives more than all.
I think she did not hear the praise -- / Went home content with need; / Walked in her old poor generous ways, / Nor knew her heavenly meed.