For the Feast of the Reign of Christ the King

Mathew 25: 31-46
Our King is calling from the hungry furrows

Whilst we are cruising through the aisles of plenty,

Our hoardings screen us from the man of sorrows,

Our soundtracks drown his murmur: ‘I am thirsty’.

He stands in line to sign in as a stranger

And seek a welcome from the world he made,

We see him only as a threat, a danger,

He asks for clothes, we strip-search him instead.

And if he should fall sick then we take care

That he does not infect our private health,

We lock him in the prisons of our fear

Lest he unlock the prison of our wealth.

But still on Sunday we shall stand and sing

The praises of our hidden Lord and King.

Malcolm Guite

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