Daily

The day arrives like that before
to call me from my bed,
for there are needs I can't ignore
and people to be fed.

This repetition, Lord, and rhyme
mark out my works and days;
I wade through ordinary time
just numbering my days.

Yet sometimes in the haze of tasks,
some music trills and sings
beyond all blessings I could ask,
O love that moves all things.

A mundane moment you fill up,
and I at once am fed
by you, my portion and my cup;
by you, my daily bread.

And then my soul before you stands;
my senses wake to know
your grace is here beneath my hands
that knead and shape the dough.

The moment past, it echoes yet—
the day is left to fill.
I fill it, Lord, and I forget,
but you are with me still.

Woman baking bread (c. 2200 BC); Louvre, Photo By Rama, CC BY-SA 3.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69938567

Generous

As from your hand all graces flow,
pour down the rain and sun 
to make a goodly harvest grow
when sorrow's planting's done.

Pour down the health and strength, O God,
that let us work the ground,
for thistles choke the shallow sod
and thorns have held us bound.

We sink our hands into the soil
but do not work alone:
O, bless our longing and our toil
and all that shall be grown.

Give us the blade and then the ear,
the ear and then the grain,
that we may know, in spite of fear,
we labor not in vain.

Give us the long-lived sumer days
when green may ripen gold,
and keep us ever in your ways,
for soon the nights turn cold.

And when the harvest time has come,
be generous, O Lord,
that when the winter winds benumb
we'll feast on our reward.

Wheat field in Vampula, Finland. By kallerna – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=123191323

That Daily Hungers May Be Fed

The car breaks down, or news arrives,
fragments the plans we've laid.
We turn to juggle jags and gyves,
the crises of the day.

Yet measure out the flour and salt,
the water and the yeast,
for in the midst of life and all 
we're called unto the feast.

So let this be th'unbroken plan,
the rule that guides our days:
to do whatever need demands
and offer it as praise,

to sink our hands into the mess
of water, salt, and flour,
to knead the dust that it may bless
the table and the hour.

Look down, O Christ, upon this bread,
these little things we lift
that daily hungers may be fed,
and make of it a gift.

Then join us at the table here
to bless the food we take
for ease and comfort—O, draw near
and share the bread we break!

Woman baking bread (c. 2200 BC); Louvre, By Rama, CC BY-SA 3.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69938567