The Gracious Provider.

"They need not go away!" the Master said,
    "Give ye to them." Ah, Lord, behold our store -
    These loaves, these fishes, - see, we have no more!
How shall this fainting throng with these be fed?
"Make them sit down!" - and the disciples sped
    To do His will. He blessed, and brake, and gave
    And as they ate, each heart grew strong and brave,
Filled, till they craved no more, with hallowed bread.
Thus, when our hearts grow faint, and stores are small,
    And thou demandest all that we possess,
O, help us, Lord, to bring that little all,
Knowing shouldst thou the gift accept and bless,
    Our worthless store, so changed and glorified,
Ourselves shall feed, and fainting throngs beside.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Our Nation's Birthday. July 1St, 1867.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Sanzas

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Beech-Nut Gatherer.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Dance Of The Winds

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Thank Offering.

My little child receives my gift,
    A simple piece of bread;
But to her mouth she doth not lift
    The love in bread conveyed,
Till on my lips, unerring, swift,
    The morsel first is laid.

This is her grace before her food,
    This her libation poured;
Uplift, like offering Aaron good
    Heaved up unto the Lord;
More riches in the thanks than could
    A thousand gifts afford!

My Father, every gift of thine,
    Teach me to lift to Thee;
Not else know I the love divine,
    With which it comes to me;
Not else the tenfold gift is mine
    Of taking thankfully.

Yea, all my being I would lift,
    An offering of me;
Then only truly mine the gift,
    When so received by Thee;
Then shall I go, rejoicing, swift...

George MacDonald

Our Daily Bread.

"Give us this day our daily bread!" O prayer
    By Jesus taught, thou hast become a cry
For starveling mouths in Famine's ghastly lair--
    A beggar's plaint when Dives passes by.

We have forsook the Temple of the Soul
    To carp with sordid tradesmen face to face;
No more we hear the Sinaian thunders roll,
    Or Jesus preaching in the market-place.

The money-changers flaunt their silks and gold;
    Within the Temple gates they ply their trade,
Forgetful of the Voice that cried of old:
    "A den of thieves my Father's house is made!"

Charles Hamilton Musgrove

Strike The Chords Softly

Strike the chords softly with tremulous fingers,
    While, on the threshold of happiest years,
For a brief moment fond memory lingers,
    Ere we go forth to life's conflicts and fears!

Strike the chords softly! - yet no, as we tarry,
    Swiftly the morning is gliding away;
Weary ones droop 'neath the burdens they carry,
    Toiling ones faint in the heat of the day.

Let us not linger! - Earth's millions are crying
    "Come to us, aid us, we grope in the night!
Come to us, aid us, we're perishing, dying -
    Give us, oh, give us, the heavenly Light!"

Let us not linger! - our brethren are calling, -
    "Aid us, the harvest increases each day; -
Some have grown weary, alas, of their toiling! -
    Others have passed from their labors away."

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

The Thank-Offering

    My Lily snatches not my gift;
        Glad is she to be fed,
    But to her mouth she will not lift
        The piece of broken bread,
    Till on my lips, unerring, swift,
        The morsel she has laid.

    This is her grace before her food,
        This her libation poured;
    Even thus his offering, Aaron good
        Heaved up to thank the Lord,
    When for the people all he stood,
        And with a cake adored.

    So, Father, every gift of thine
        I offer at thy knee;
    Else take I not the love divine
        With which it comes to me;
    Not else the offered grace is mine
        Of sharing life with thee.

    Yea, all my being I would bring,
        Yielding it utterly,
    Not yet a full-possesse...

George MacDonald

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread.

Give us this day our daily bread;
    Oh! children, when you pray,
And morn and night repeat these words,
    Think what it is you say.

You never asked a piece of bread,
    And had that wish denied;
For food to eat, and some to spare,
    Has always been supplied.

But o'er the ocean, many a cheek
    With want grows thin and pale;
And many suffer like the boy
    Of whom I tell this tale.

He lay upon some scattered straw,--
    His strength was almost gone,--
And, in a feeble voice, he cried,
    "Give me three grains of corn!"

Three grains from out his jacket torn,
    His trembling mother drew,
'Twas all she had--she gave them him,
    Though she was starving too!

Be very grateful, children, then,
    F...

H. P. Nichols

Hunger

Father, I cry to thee for bread
    With hungred longing, eager prayer;
Thou hear'st, and givest me instead
    More hunger and a half-despair.

0 Lord, how long? My days decline,
    My youth is lapped in memories old;
I need not bread alone, but wine--
    See, cup and hand to thee I hold!

And yet thou givest: thanks, O Lord,
    That still my heart with hunger faints!
The day will come when at thy board
    I sit, forgetting all my plaints.

If rain must come and winds must blow,
    And I pore long o'er dim-seen chart,
Yet, Lord, let not the hunger go,
    And keep the faintness at my heart.

George MacDonald