Our Brothers Keeper

He's whispering in vague ambiguity and clouded sighs. The tortured soul now turns and hides.

The shell once cracked, now lets in flies.

His words are too many. His words make-not-sense.?..

Twisted inside, the blooming heart turns and dies.

Could anyone help him? Would anyone care?

Or, would they look right past, or only stare?

His clothes are torn and tattered.  Searing years look through his face.

Would you help the “least of these?” Or, would you walk and make haste and pick up the pace?

What if he were a brother? Are we his keeper?

Or, what if perhaps they were a prodigal, maybe your prodigal?

LORD of mercy, forgive us when we turn and judge an unknown story. Soften our hearts of stone; make them flesh again and make them beat. Give us eye to see Your broken, hurting children. Give us comforting hands. Give us Your insight. Give us Your grace.

³⁵ I was hungry. And you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty. And you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger. And you invited me in. ³⁶ I needed clothes. And you gave them to me. I was sick. And you took care of me. I was in prison. And you came to visit me.'

 ³⁷ "Then the people who have done what is right will answer him. 'Lord,' they will ask, 'when did we see you hungry and feed you? When did we see you thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you as a stranger and invite you in? When did we see you needing clothes and give them to you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

 ⁴⁰ "The King will reply, 'What I'm about to tell you is true. Anything you did for one of the least important of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

Matthew 25:35-40 NIRV