Our Father in Heaven (Sonnet 7)
Previous/Next/Sonnet Central Home
"Give us this day our daily bread."
GIRDED for toil, uprisen with the sun
Low by the empty couch our heads we bow,
As in our childhood, in our manhood now,
To pray, before the day's work is begun
(Unheeding that the boon we ask is won),
For daily bread. With toil-dews on my brow,
Perchance with throbs of brain, my brother, thou,
The barter we for this day's bread have done.
Why pray we, but that in our hearts we know
Our toil and care and pains are vainly spent,
Or vainly crowned, if from our Father's store
We feel not all our gains by favor flow?
His love can leave us with our crumbs content:
Without it, we should crave, with harvests, more.