I think I have a talent,
But in my human sight,
It’s just a little trifle,
Unlike the widow’s mite.
I wonder if this talent,
Is given as a trust?
And someday I would rue it,
If I should let it rust?
Would it really matter,
If it were never found?
Who would care if I should dare,
To hide it in the ground?
I know my God has given me,
This talent as a gift,
And He will ask a strict account,
Of what I did with it.
I pledge to use my talent,
And by its tiny light,
Some weary soul may find in it,
A moment’s sweet respite.
Myra D’souza / 26/11/2008
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