With joy you saw it all— the water turned to wine, five thousand fed; the man, sick of the palsy, rise and walk; the one who touched your robe, made whole, your joy flower in Mary's eyes when she saw you, Lord— alive! Rejoicing too, your follower shall go into the city now, inspired, Master, by your works; share this Truth, sufficient still to feed thousands more, aware of Love's right action where lack of order seems to be: sure Love's touch is being felt every faith-winged moment on every crowded street. So, among city stones, where no flower likely grows, we faithful, Master, come to see signs of that joy you've left with us— growing! Jane R.
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