SONGS FOR THE

And very hard this widow toiled
To feed her children four ;
A noble heart the mother had,

Though she was very poor.

To labor, she would leave her home,
For children must be fed ;

And glad was she when she could buy

A shilling’s worth of bread.

And this was all the children had
On any day to eat:

They drank their water, ate their bread,

But never tasted meat.

One day when snow was falling fast,
And piercing was the air,

I thought that I would go and see

How these poor children were.

Ere long I reached their cheerless home—
’T was searched by every breeze—
When, going in, the eldest child
I saw upon his knees.

I paused to listen to the boy:

He never raised his head,
But still went on, and said, “ Give us
This day our daily bread.”