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For we are sick of tears,
The useless tears we shed;—
Now give us comfort, Lord,
To be our daily Bread.
Give us our daily Bread,
The Bread of Angels, Lord,
For us, so many times,
Broken, betrayed, adored:
His Body and His Blood;—
The feast that Jesus spread:
Give Him—our life, our all—
To be our daily Bread!
MY MARYLAND
By James Ryder Randall
The despot's heel is on thy shore,
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle-queen of yore,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Hark to an exiled son's appeal,
Maryland!
My Mother State, to thee I kneel,
Maryland!
For life and death, for woe and weal,
