Thine are all the gifts, O God,
Thine the broken bread;
Let the naked feet be shod
And the starving fed.

Let Thy children, by Thy grace,
Give as they abound,
Till the poor have breathing-space,
And the lost are found.

Wiser than the miser’s hoards
Is the giver’s choice;
Sweeter than the song of birds
Is the thankful voice;

Welcome smiles on faces sad
As the flowers of spring:
Let the tender hearts be glad
With the joy they bring.

Happier for their pity’s sake
Make their sports and plays,
And from the lips of childhood take
Thy perfected praise.