Song from the Beatitudes

Blessed are the riches forfeit,
Those who’ve had pockets turned,
Stripped down of all their stolen bread,
Given a wage unearned.

Blessed are the hopeless sinners,
Those spirits poor and down,
Blessed are the exiles wandering,
That kingdoms might be found.

Blessed are the weeping children,
A mother’s arms they’ll find,
Singing the song of neediness,
And never left behind.

Blessed are the bitter lonely,
With none to make their peace,
Given a family, name and home,
With blood to sign the lease.