[Written for the Sentinel.]


With me 'twas evening in a desert place,And hungry thoughts in a great multitudeQuestioned earnestly each his neighbor's face,—If they should not depart by slow foot-paceInto some village to buy needful food.

E'en the disciples having speech with himHad not the faith to ask for daily breadUntil he bade "Give," in the twilight dim,"Ye them to eat," and loaded to the brimTwelve baskets when the healed throng were fed.

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