Everyday at suppertime
We all say our Grace
We thank and praise the Lord
For the food on our plates

However, my sister did not
Join in when we said our Grace
She just sat there last suppertime
With a strange look on her face

When I asked her what was wrong
She looked at me and said:
“When each homeless person has a home
And a pillow, blanket, and bed

The day there won’t be
A bomb blast sound
The day there are no murders
Or any dead bodies found

The day each hungry soul
Has a bite to eat
The day the naked have a jacket
And shoes on their feet

When the thirsty have water
And no one steals
When each and every person
Has a nice warming meal

When this world knows peace
And justice and love
When strangers help strangers
Like angels from above

When the world isn’t separated
By color, religion, or race,
Then, and only then will I
Say my Grace.”