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The Feast by Edward Schoor © 2006 For days I sat at Sodom’s gate Begging the rich to feed my soul But no one knew what food I ate For they thought by now I should be whole Soon they thought it was too late For the want I had took its toll And with disgust they regarded my low estate Surely some demon is in control But all I wanted was to clean my slate With hope as blind as a mole How was I to know that to fill my plate I had to find my food in sheol But now I sit as Abraham’s mate At a table burning with coal And with him eat the food he ate A meal truly filling and truly whole |