"They need not go away!" the Master said,
"Give ye to them." Ah, Lord, behold our store—
These loaves, these fishes,—see, we have no more!
How shall this fainting throng with these be fed?
"Make them sit down!"—and the disciples sped
To do His will. He blessed, and brake, and gave
And as they ate, each heart grew strong and brave,
Filled, till they craved no more, with hallowed bread.
Thus, when our hearts grow faint, and stores are small,
And thou demandest all that we possess,
O, help us, Lord, to bring that little all,
Knowing shouldst thou the gift accept and bless,
Our worthless store, so changed and glorified,
Ourselves shall feed, and fainting throngs beside.