Congo to a teenager. Bolivia. Cameroun. What is a faun? Higher up and further in with an outreach twist. Writing.

An Old Martha Snell Nicholson Poem

©Nina de Sus Ojos  by NinadesusOjos, 2012 -2013. Any and all unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all photographs, without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited by law.IMG_2968Treasures

by Martha Snell Nicholson

One by one He took them from me,

All the things I valued most,

Until I was empty-handed;

Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth’s highways, grieving,

In my rage and poverty.

Till I heard His voice inviting,

“Lift your empty hands to Me!”

So I held my hands toward heaven,

And He filled them with a store

of His own transcendent riches,

Till they could contain no more.

And at last I comprehended

With my stupid mind and dull,

That God could not pour His riches

Into hands already full.   (Martha Snell Nicholson)

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