Come To His Table

Humankind shouldn't despise its own,
let love be reaped after it's sown.
Many people's shelves empty from
high inflation,
come to His table, all generations.

Who sits at the honored seat?
radiant Christ, the harvest is complete.
His angels summoned the needy,
some of them shunned by the greedy.
They've brought their famished children,
no more hunger pangs of  billions.

So much to thank Him for,
bread from golden wheat for the poor.
Juice from abundant grapes,
flowing down from a heavenly airspace.
Rice cakes and vegetables, so filling,
His earthly worker's heady joy, so willing,
to sow again neath a mellow sun,
for the grateful, every one.

It doesn't matter how humble your
station,
come to His table, all generations. ~