“An old lady sat in her old armchair,
For days and for weeks her only fare,
As she sat in her old armchair,
Had been potatoes.
But now they were gone, of bad or good.
And she thought of the deacon over the way,
The deacon so ready to worship and pray,
Whose cellar was full of potatoes.
She said, ‘I will send for the deacon to come.’
And the deacon came over as fast as he could,
Thinking to do the old lady some good,
But never for once of potatoes.
He prayed for patience, goodness and grace;
But when he prayed, ‘Lord, give her peace,’
She audibly sighed, ‘Give potatoes.’
So ending his prayers, he started for home,
The door closed behind, he heard a deep groan:
‘Oh, give to the hungry potatoes!’
And the groan followed him all the way home;
In the midst of the light it haunted his room;
‘Oh, give to the hungry potatoes!’
He could bear it no longer; arose and dressed,
From his well-filled cellar taking in haste
A bag of his best potatoes.
The widow’s heart leaped up for joy,
Her face was pale and haggard no more,
‘Now,’ said the deacon, ‘shall we pray?’
‘Yes,’ said the widow, ‘now you may.’
And would you hear this simple tale,
Pray for the poor, and praying, prevail?
Then preface your prayer with alms and good deeds;
Search out the poor, their wants and needs;
Pray for their peace and grace, spiritual food,
For wisdom and guidance—all these are good—
But don’t forget the potatoes!”
—_The Independent._
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