Cold is the human heart, and good as dead
that has not suffered in another’s stead,
or lain aside some comfort of its own
to know the need another might have known.
For God, in Holy mystery, has willed
each heart to lack a wholeness, if not filled
with love enough to walk the lonely roads
of others sinking underneath their loads.
When love is let to open every door
which walls away some warmth within our core,
no vestige of the former chill of night
survives beneath the blanket of the light.
In living, let us warm another’s cold.
In loving, let us seek a hand to hold.
In knowing, let us help the world to see
a life laid down will live eternally.

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