Broken Bread

Broken Bread

 

One night

Quite late

In adoration

Kneeling,

I pleased with

My new found Lord,

“Reveal Thyself

To me.”

So sleep stole in

Enfolded me

In sweet and

Welcome rest.

Now, in my home

Famished, hungry,

I found a loaf

Of bread unbroken.

 

Even as

I reached

To satisfy

My need,

Stood a Stranger

By my side

His eyes

Upon my bread.

Without a word

I broke it

Giving Him

The larger half.

Then as He passed

Into the room

Where dear Mother

Had lain in death

With burning heart

I shyly spoke,

“I know ‘tis You,

You’re Jesus.”

Round me His arm;

In Mother’s tongue

He softly said,

“Ich Bien!” (I Am)

Oft when I’m tired

Careworn and sad,

He whispers,

Oh, so gently,

I need you still

To break the bread

My hungry ones

To feed.”

So strengthened,

Satisfied, content,

I carry on

For Him! 

(By Brigadier Harry Strissel, my Great-grand Father)