Wearing worry about money like a hair shirt br I lie down in my bed and wrestle with my angel. br br My bank-manager could not sanction my continuance for another day br But life itself wakes me each morning, and love br br Urges me to give although I have no money br In the bank at this moment, and ought properly br br To cease to exist in a world where poverty br Is a shameful and ridiculous offence. br br Having no one to advise me, I open the Bible br And shut my eyes and put my finger on a text br br And read that the widow with the young son br Must give first to the prophetic genius br From the little there is in the bin of flour and the cruse of oil.