What hast thou in thy hand
Woman? “One handful” more;
Go feed the prophet, and ’twill last
Till famine days are o’er.
What hast thou in thy hand,
Widow? “A pot of oil”;
Go pour it out and find a store
Of rich and priceless spoil.
What hast thou in thy hand,
Mary? Some “perfume rare”;
Pour it upon His head; ’twill flow
In fragrance everywhere.
And Rahab, what hast thou?
“A cord of scarlet hue”;
Hang it in faith, gather your kin —
God’s blessings rest on you.
And, Dorcas, what hast thou?
“A needle and some thread”;
Give them to God, they’ll bless the poor,
And bring thee from the dead.
What hast thou in they hand,
Widow? “Two mites” — no more;
Give them to God, and they shall grow
To be a mighty store.
What hast thou in thy hand,
Mother? “A baby’s hand”;
Train it for Him, so shall thy life
Bear fruit in every land.
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