Within a town of Holland once
A widow dwelt, ‘twas said,
So poor, alas! her children asked
One night in vain for bread.
Now this poor woman loved the Lord
And knew that He was good,
So with her little ones around
She prayed to Him for food.
When prayer was done, her eldest son,
A boy of eight years old,
Said softly: “In the Holy Book,
Dear Mother, we are told,
“How God, with food by ravens brought,
Supplied the prophet’s need.”
“Yes, yes, my son, but that was done
Long, long ago indeed.”
“But, Mother, God may do again
What He has done before,
And so to let the birds fly in
I will unloose the door.”
Ere long the Burgomaster passed,
And noticing a light
Paused to discover why the door
Was ope’ so late at night.
“My little Dirk has done it, Sir,”
The widow smiling said,
“E’en that the ravens might fly in
To bring my children bread.”
“Indeed,” the Burgomaster cried,
“Then here’s a raven, lad,
Come to my home and you shall see
Where bread may soon be had.”
Along the streets toward his house
He quickly led the boy,
And sent him back with food that filled
The humble home with joy.
The supper ended, little Dirk
Went to the open door,
Looked up and said, “Lord, many thanks,”
And shut it fast once more.
And tho’ no bird had entered in
He knew that God on high
Had listened to his mother’s prayer,
And sent a full supply.
ML 09/10/1950