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Prayer And Potatoes
An old lady sat in her old arm-chair
With wrinkled face and disheveled hair
And pale and hunger-worn features;
For days and for weeks, her only fare
As she sat in her old arm-chair,
Had been nothing but potatoes.
But now they were gone, of bad and of good.
Not one was left for the old lady's food.
Of these her stock of potatoes.
She sighed and said, "What will I do? Where shall I send?
To whom shall I go, to get some more potatoes?"
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.
He'll not mind to give me some of
Such a store of potatoes."
The deacon came over as fast as he could,
Thinking to do the old lady some good;
But never thought once of potatoes.
He asked her directly to tell her chief want,
And she, simple soul, expecting a grant,
Immediately answered, "Potatoes".
But the deacon's religion went not that way.
He was more accustomed to preach and to pray,
Than to give of his hoarded potatoes.
So not hearing, of course, what the old lady said,
He rose to pray with uncovered head.
She only thought of potatoes.
He prayed for patience, for wisdom, for grace,
But when he prayed, "Oh Lord, give her peace".
She audibly sighed, "Give potatoes".
At the end of each pray that he said,
He heard, or thought that he heard, in its stead,
The same request for potatoes.
The deacon was troubled - he knew not what to do.
T'was embarrassing, very, to have her act so
About those 'carnal potatoes'.
So ending his prayer, he started for home.
As the door closed behind him, he heard a deep groan.
"Oh give to the hungry, potatoes".
And that groan followed him all the way home,
In the midst of the night it haunted his room.
"Oh give to the hungry, potatoes".
He could bear it no long--he arose and dressed.
From his well-filled cellar taking in haste
A bag of his best potatoes.
Again, he went to the widow's lone hut.
Her sleepless eyes she had not yet shut.
But there she sat in her old arm-chair,
With the same wan features, the same said air.
So entering in he poured on the floor
A bushel or more of his goodly store
Of the very best potatoes.
The widow's heart leaped up for joy,
Her face was haggard and w an no more.
"Now", said the deacon, "Shall we pray?"
"Yes" said the widow, "Now you may".
And he kneeded on the sanded floor
Where he had poured out his goodly store.
Such a prayer the deacon prayed.
As never before his lips essayed.
No longer embarrassed but free and full.
He poured out the voice of a liberal soul.
And the widow responded with a loud "Amen".
And said no more of potatoes.
Would you who hear this simple tale,
Pray for the poor and praying prevail.
Then preface your prayers with alms and good deeds.
Search out the poor with their cares and their deeds.
Pray for peace and grace and Heavenly food.
Pray for wisdom and guidance, for these are all good.
But don't forget the potatoes.
14 What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him? If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works.
James 2:14-18
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Latest page update: made by biblebug
, Aug 18 2008, 10:58 PM EDT
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