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Based on
the parable of The Good Samaritan in Luke
10:30-37
Beside a
narrow roadside ditch,
A man lay there without a stitch,
He'd been attacked by ruthless goons,
And dogs came there to lick his wounds.
And many
people passed him by,
But no one stopped to hear his cries,
They made excuses, everyone,
And some called him a drunken bum.
But there
was one who knew his pain,
A person treated with distain,
His country was Samaria,
Which gave the Jews hysteria.
He, too,
had once been down-and-out,
And all the people 'round about,
Ignored his cries for charity,
For virtue was a rarity.
He
stopped to see what he could do,
And then before it all was through,
He gave the shirt from off his back,
Made sure the man would never lack.
He took
the man into an Inn,
To find some help for him within,
And for his keep he paid his way,
So he would have a place to stay.
"So,
who's my neighbour?" we may ask,
While in our 'comfort zone' we bask,
It's anyone with hurt and grief,
Who looks to us for some relief.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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