Classic Poem

The eyes of all look up
In hope, O God, to Thee;
Their platter and their cup
They set for Thee to see
Upon their empty board;
And wait upon thee still,
Their Father and their Lord,
Their emptiness to fill.

Where'er the needy stand
And watch the season's round
Thou openest Thy hand
And blessings all abound.
Where ever fledgelings call
Or human children cry
Thy bounty feedeth all,
And unto all is nigh.