A Candle
Author Unknown


 

A candle is but a simple thing.

It starts with just a piece of string.

But dipped and dipped with a patient hand.

It gathers wax upon the strand.

Until complete and snowy white,

It spreads a glowing, lustrous light.

We are like that bit of string.

Each deed we do, a simple thing.

Yet day by day, if on life's strand

We share with patient heart and hand.

We gather joy, making dark days bright,

And we give at last, a warm, bright light.