Blind to the Least of These

Driving in my comfortable vehicle
an inner city child rides by my side,
a ten-year old boy.

The suburban road narrows
as we approach cars parked both sides.
Volunteers parked are there
for helping to rake an elderly resident's lawn.
Says the boy: "Shouldn't we stop to help?
"Says I: "We are in a hurry
and can't you see someone else is taking care of it."

But somewhere inside of me
the little boy says: "Truly, I say to you..."

Driving by the city jail
on our way to a chic restaurant
we see the rows and rows of lonely cells.
Says the boy: "Shouldn't we stop to console?"
Says I: "We are in a hurry
and can't you see the chaplain will visit these."

But somewhere inside of me
the little boy says: "...as you did not to one of the least of these..."

Driving by an overpass
a lonely man sleeps with no more cover
than the morning news
on a cold and bitter winter's morn.
Says the boy: "Shouldn't we stop to care?"
Says I: "We are in a hurry and you can't you see
in another city there is a shelter for he."

But somewhere inside of me
the little boy says: "... you did it not to me."

Blind to the least of these.

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