Eden

We have never looked on Eden—
it was gone before we woke,
but we'd swear that we have seen it
in the words our fathers spoke,
in the kindness of our mothers,
in the bread we daily break
or receive from one another:
Eden, every bite we take.

There are days when we remember
that our lives are built on sand,
walking always in the desert,
looking for the promised land.
In the daily thirst of dying
we recall those living springs;
hunger speaks of satisfying:
Eden touches everything.

Though we can't go back to Eden,
still it flavors all we do;
with the savor of your kingdom
where we find our life in you,
for the seeds in Eden planted
blossom out into a feast.
From the harvest you have granted
we will finally sit and eat.

Les très riches heures du duc de Berry, Folio 25v, By Limbourg brothers – IRHT-CNRS/Gilles Kagan – Bibliothèque du château, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=108858

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