An anonymous poem about the blessing of giving, even if it is a small gift . . .
The Mite Song
Only a drop in the bucket.
But every drop will tell,
The bucket would soon be empty;
Without the drops in the well.
“Only a poor little penny,
It was all I had to give;
But as pennies make the dollars.
It may help some cause to live.
“A few little bits of ribbon,
And some toys—they were not new,
But they made the sick child happy,
And that made me happy, too.
“Only some out-grown garments:
They were all I had to spare:
But they’ll help to clothe the needy,
And the poor are everywhere.
“A word now and then of comfort,
That cost me nothing to say:
But the poor old man died happy,
And it helped him on the way.
“God loveth the cheerful giver,
Though the gifts be poor and small:
But what must he think of his children
Who never give at all?

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