When Hope comes knocking at your door,
Asking for a handout in the cold,
Who among you would not spare a dime?
Then shame on you.
For deep inside you is the cold
That you shut out behind your door,
It’s brightly painted wood a mocking light
In the gloomy dusk.
So shame on you.
But each of you who gives as you can spare,
Though it be less than one might wish or need,
If with sincerity you open up your heart
To let in Hope,
Then a blessing be upon you,
For you are Hope.