My youngest daughter just turned four,
and from her party gained much more
than gifts received from guests and host;
the joy of giving touched her most.
So now to earn my praise she sits
and wraps for me all sorts of gifts:
crayons and ribbons, toys that wind,
most anything that she can find.
Trinkets, pencils, pens, wrench sockets,
keys and coins fished from my pockets,
all wrapped in newsprint, tied with twine,
she gives me what’s already mine.
Her picture book, her pretty doll,
and other things I well recall,
hoping my favor to assure,
she gives me things I’ve given her.
I keep them on my shelf awhile.
My lavish “thank yous” bring a smile
of faith in my parental knack
for knowing when to give them back.
Quite oft the things our small ones do
remind us we are children too.
Our gifts to them help us recall
that God the Father gives us all.
When to the Lord I give a tenth
of all the blessings He has sent,
my time, my wealth, what ere it is,
I give Him what’s already His.
And every gift I have to give
is likewise given me. I live
each day and praise Him who in love
metes out His blessings from above.
If I of my abundance share
or of my lack my tithe still spare,
through heaven’s windows, He will pour
a bounty far beyond my store.
The alms we leave at heaven’s door,
in time, return to us with more
than we can ever hope repay;
our debt to Him grows day by day.
And those of us who vainly boast,
because we think we give the most,
should sore repent, for in His sight,
He treasures more the widow’s mite.
My children’s gifts, in time, mature;
their trust, their love unfeigned and pure,
their gratitude for lessons learned,
they give, but still, it’s all returned.
What have we then to offer Him
who fills our cup far past its brim?
What can I give? What does He lack
that He can never give me back?
It must be something He desires,
a gift to which a God aspires,
a priceless pearl, so fine and fair,
He’d never let it leave His care.
Dear Father, that one gift I own,
one thing that’s mine, and mine alone,
I freely give, as Thou to me,
for Thine to keep eternally.
That gift for which Thou dost most yearn,
an offering Thou canst not return,
I give Thee, Father, God divine:
my free will Lord, not mine, but Thine.

This poem was inspired by a memory. In that memory, I am a very small boy, walking slowly up and down the aisles of Woolworth’s Nickel and Dime, the coins I’ve saved all year jingling in my pocket, searching for just the right Christmas gift for each member of my family: marbles for my brother, a pen for my Dad, an eraser for one sister, a pencil case for another, and a lace handkerchief for my grandmother. As I’ve watched my own children make that same transition from the joy of receiving to the greater joy of giving, I have experienced the even greater joy, as a parent, of knowing that they are progressing on the path that will lead them to the love of God. And I’ve often reflected on the debt I owe the Father of us all and on how I might reciprocate. John the apostle wrote, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth” (3 John 4). Although our debt to God can never be fully repaid, our walk in truth and the submission of our wills to His are the greatest gifts we can give Him.