WHO ARE THESE?

Who are these, can they be counted?
Passing through the valley of Bacca
On their way to eternal bliss;
Faces uplifted to the Father,
Tear stained,
Showing pain,
Suffering shame for the Father's name
Homeless,
Lonely,
Wounded...just as you were , Lord

I have a warm, cozy bed
with plenty of covers over my head.
They are shivering in prison cells,
no pillows for their heads
with only cement floors for their beds

If I am hungry to my cupboard I go,
a supply of food will be there, I know.
In the refugee camps they lay
many are starving every day.

I go to my closet to decide what to wear,
mix or match, I have such a choice.
Their clothes are tattered rags
with barely enough to cover their backs.

When I suffer bruises or breaks,
a trip to the doctor is all that it takes.
They are bruised from tortures sore
with no medicine on their wounds to pour.

When I am lonely, many friends I can call
On any occasion;
They sit alone in isolation.

These are my brothers, these are my sisters
in Christ. This is my suffering family.
Jesus said, "In as much as you do it unto the
least of these my brethren, you do it unto me".

What gifts have I given to my "brethren" today?