To and fro, it's whiskers twitching,
Searching, searching as the clock is ticking.
For that one penny that'll make it richer,
May just be lurking under a pillar.
The poor and wretched little church mouse,
Dwells in a hole within God's house,
But not once does it think to pray,
To the One who provides everyday.
It's sad that often you and I,
Like that miserable rodent sigh,
"This life we live is like a task",
But for His blessings we never ask.
It's not a shame to weep and cry,
But I think it's time your eyes got dried.
Our help does not in mere mortals lie,
But in Him who our needs supplies.
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