O! fair and fresh the early spring Her budding wreath displays, To all the wide earth promising The joy of harvest days; Yet many a waste of wavy gold Hath bent above the dead; Then let the living share it too-- Give us our daily bread. Of old a nation's cry shook down The sword-defying wall, And ours may reach the mercy-seat, Though not the lordly hall. God of the Corn! shall man restrain Thy blessings freely shed? O! look upon the isles at last-- Give us our daily bread.…
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