What mere children the disciples were, yet Jesus bore with them very kindly, and so will he do with us.
Canst thou, then, without compassion,
Me thy faint disciple see,
Hungering after thy salvation,
Perishing for want of thee?
Dying, till the grace is given,
Only for thy life I pine;
Feed me, Lord, with bread from heaven.
Fill my soul with love divine.