“Give me my daily bread.
It seems so odd,
When all is done and said,
This plea to God.
To pray for cake might be
The thing to do;
But bread, it seems to me,
Is just our due.
“Give me my daily toil,”
I ought to say –
(If from life’s cursed coil
I’d time to pray.)
Give me my daily sweat,
My body sore,
So that bread I may get
To toil for more.
“Give me my daily breath,”
Through half a sob,
Until untimely death
Shall end my job.
A crust for my award,
I cry in dread:
“Grant unto me. Oh Lord,
My daily bread!”
