Father, I cry to thee for bread
With hungred longing, eager prayer;
Thou hear’st, and givest me instead
More hunger and a half-despair.
0 Lord, how long? My days decline,
My youth is lapped in memories old;
I need not bread alone, but wine–
See, cup and hand to thee I hold!
And yet thou givest: thanks, O Lord,
That still my heart with hunger faints!
The day will come when at thy board
I sit, forgetting all my plaints.
If rain must come and winds must blow,
And I pore long o’er dim-seen chart,
Yet, Lord, let not the hunger go,
And keep the faintness at my heart.