As in the wilderness of old,
When Thou Thy children safely led,
They gathered, as we have been told,
One day's supply of heavenly bread,
And if they gathered more than that,
At evening it was stale and flat,—
So, Lord, may this our faith increase—
To leave, untouched, to-morrow's load,
To take of grace a one-day lease
Upon life's winding road.
Though round the bend we may not see,
Still let us travel hopefully!
Or, if our faith is still so small—
Our hearts so void of heavenly grace,
That we may still affrighted be
In passing some dark place—
Then in Thy mercy let us run
Blindfolded in the race.