To want is there to be where I am not,
Abundance waits for me where'er I tread;
The cares of life in me are all forgot,
I have enough and e'en to spare of bread;
Come, taste, and hunger shall be laid at rest;
And thirst once quenched shall never thirst again;
Thou shalt of all I have be long possest,
And long thy life my body shall sustain;
There are who food will give thee, but 'tis theirs;
And hunger rages but the more 'tis fed;
'Twas made from out the grains of scattered tares,
That through my field by wicked hands were spread,
But thou shalt have the wheat that's sown by me,
And in thy bosom's field new harvests ever see.