"Give us this day our daily bread!" O prayer
By Jesus taught, thou hast become a cry
For starveling mouths in Famine's ghastly lair--
A beggar's plaint when Dives passes by.
We have forsook the Temple of the Soul
To carp with sordid tradesmen face to face;
No more we hear the Sinaian thunders roll,
Or Jesus preaching in the market-place.
The money-changers flaunt their silks and gold;
Within the Temple gates they ply their trade,
Forgetful of the Voice that cried of old:
"A den of thieves my Father's house is made!"